


Seconds and Thirds

by Baird Crevan (LadySibilance)



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Battle Royale - Freeform, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Creepy Quintessons, Cross-Faction Freindship, Eventual Happy Ending, Frenemies, Gen, Good Boys Gone Bad, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Past Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Quintessons are evil, Rated For Violence, Starscream being Starscream, Suffering for Entertainment, Tournaments, Violence, forced to work together, uncomfortable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:08:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 55,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26175490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadySibilance/pseuds/Baird%20Crevan
Summary: The respective second and third-in-commands of the Autobots and Decepticons are transported to an arena for the sport of their captors.  They have to find a way to work together to survive, and find out the real reason they were stolen from the war.  Jazz, Prowl, Starscream, and Soundwave centered.  Jazz/Prowl, referenced Megatron/Starscream. COMPLETE.
Relationships: Jazz & Prowl & Starscream & Soundwave, Jazz/Prowl, Megatron/Starscream (Transformers), Soundwave & Starscream (Transformers)
Comments: 421
Kudos: 303





	1. The Games

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all, new little plot bunny.

Jazz was on his hands and knees as a terrible ringing reverberated through his audios. His helm _pounded_ with the weight and he couldn’t do much but stay very, very still and wait for the sound to cease. The place where he was offensively white; so white it burned his optics if he tried to open them. And it smelled of singed plating.

Where had he been? On the battlefield? Earth? The memory was distant, and it was like pulling taffy through his processor, attempting to remember what had happened. Slowly, his senses returned, and he realized he was not alone.

Prowl was laying down unconscious next to him on his back. His spark froze for a moment, but after touching him, he realized he was alive, just completely out.

A flick of the optics showed the frightening visage of Starscream, likewise leaning over the passed-out frame of Soundwave a short distance away. They met optics, and of course tried to draw their weapons on each other, but both malfunctioned. Starscream was sparking in the side where he had been hit by some kind of blaster fire. Similarly, Prowl seemed singed on his right leg.

They stared at each other for a long moment until they heard the sound of keening. To both of their surprise, the noise of grief was coming from Soundwave. The tape-deck was pulling his servos over his face, and the sounds of muffled crying echoed slightly in the room they were in.

Starscream looked as if Soundwave had suddenly been turned into a tree at the well of transformation. He was confused and looked more than a little disturbed. He lowered his useless null-rays that were trained on Jazz, and laid a servo on Soundwave, saying something quietly that Jazz couldn’t quite make out. Soundwave seemed to reply, and Starscream’s face fell.

Prowl began to stir beside him. Jazz quickly leaned down to his fellow Autobot. “Hey, hey there soldier, you still kicking?” he said as he picked up Prowl’s helm and put it in the crook of his arm. 

The Praxian groaned a little and put his servo to his helm. “What the frag did you do to me?” he said weakly, making a smirk despite wincing.

“Yeah looks like I got a little too kinky this time, and we added some Decepticons,” he said looking over at Starscream and Soundwave. Starscream was now petting Soundwave on the helm and speaking in low tones. 

Prowl nodded, understanding the hidden question and checked over his weapons. “Seems mine are a bust.”

“I’d bet credits that all four of us are in the same position.”

“Threat assessment?” the Praxian asked as he slowly began to sit up, though still in pain.

“Uh… well I think it’s rising by the minute.” Jazz watched as Soundwave sat up and trained his unnerving gaze on the two Autobots. Starscream looked like he was quickly speaking to Soundwave, trying to pull his attention back, but the tape deck had begun to stand up.

Things started to feel a little fuzzy. Jazz knew the feeling of Soundwave’s telepathy, but it usually wasn’t so… cold. Instead of being a light touch of someone knocking at the door, this felt like he had turned on the fire hose and was trying to break in. The Decepticon radiated rage, and Starscream looked like he too was being pulled into the mental assault.

As quickly as it began, the assault ended. Soundwave had taken about ten steps towards them when he stopped and collapsed to his knees and just sat there. Starscream quietly stood, holding his side and stood next to his fellow Decepticon.

“It seems you know about as much as we do as to where we are or how we got here,” he rasped. 

The room was large, but completely white and smooth. There were no windows, no doors, no lights of any kind. There were walls and corners, but they were hard to make out. Their own frames didn’t seem to cast any shadows.

“Which is about nothing,” Jazz said, eyeing the enemy. “What’s up with him?”

Starscream looked to the tape-deck, his brow furrowed. “None of your business,” he replied. 

Suddenly, a booming loud voice interrupted them. “Greetings, children of Cybertron.” Starscream, Prowl, and Jazz jumped at being startled. Soundwave did not react. Jazz didn’t like the way the word “children” sounded… patronizing.

Fear seized his fuel tanks.

“We have watched your civil war with growing interest and feel that we can stay impartial no longer. We choose to test the metal of your two factions by examining the second and thirds of the respective armies.”

The white walls changed to giant live feed of their collective greatest fear.

Quintessons.

Thousands, upon thousands of Quintessons filled stands as if they were in a giant sports arena. The Quintessons writhed and cheered as they all yelled at the cameras. Occasionally the camera would pan to a giant display screen, which was a live feed of the captured Transformers. They could see their shocked and dismayed faces as shown to the thronging masses.

“We will reward you if we deem you worthy,” the voice said. The live feed of the videos cut away and was replaced with the white walls again. “But you should know that you are not the only race of our children competing for this honor. And losing does mean… extinction.”

Jazz saw his own look of horror mirrored in Starscream’s face.

“I’m sure you have questions,” the voice said now, less loud, as a door opened. In strode a light green Quintesson, wearing a bright purple mask that was in a wicked grin. “I’m happy to explain to you about the Games.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am taking some creative liberties with some backgrounds and ages. But I tried to make any of it plausible as best as I can tell. Hope you enjoy!

When the Quintesson entered the room, a few things happened in very quick succession.

First, Prowl had rolled to the side and had transformed, quickly driving up to the Quintesson, obviously intending to run the creature over. Starscream had blasted into the air using his jets was quickly trying to get to the door before it fully closed. Soundwave seemed to be knocked out of his stupor and was making for the creature as well. Jazz had cried out to tell them to stop, but it was too late.

The four transformers fell to the ground when their frames were seized with the most excruciating electrical shocks that had erupted across their plating.

“How _predictable_ ,” the Quintesson replied irritably. “Well, get it out of your systems, dears, this is going to be a while.”

The shocks had stopped, but the Transformers still twitched a little. Starscream groaned but seemed to be the least affected since he had been clear in the air, and the shock had not been able to complete the circuit in the ground. He stood, shakily and glanced at where the door was again, scowling when there was no trace of it. The others began to slowly get up, trying not to make any sudden movements.

The Quintesson was not that tall, in fact it barely reached the ankles of their pedes. He wore some kind of purple armor around an egg-shaped body, and several tentacle appendages came out the bottom and out the sides in place of “arms and legs.” Though he was diminutive, his presence felt much, much larger in the room.

“I would like to have a look at what we got,” the Quintesson said. “I want your designations and functions,” he said quickly, pulling out a datapad. “You there, you start,” he said, indicating Prowl. The Datsun glared but said nothing. 

A tiny shock to his plating made his helm snap back in pain. “Pr-owl,” he replied.

“Not your _name_ , I said your _designation!_ Honestly, we don’t care what you overgrown toasters call yourselves, we just need to look you up in the creation records.”

Prowl scowled with hate. Jazz knew that look all too well. “P-09,” he replied, with clenched denta.

“ _Excellent,_ ” the Quintesson replied. “Ah yes! We’ve encountered you before right before we left Cybertron, didn’t we? Seems you were trying to blow up a space bridge or something to stop us. Seems you are a ground-based enforcer-type? And an Autobot.”

Prowl just stood there, silently. Jazz knew Prowl had been trying to defend Cybertron back during their liberation from the Quintessons, eons before the Golden Age, but some of this was new information. “And you? Seems you are the second-in-command of the Autobots.”

“J-06,” he replied coolly. “But you can call me Jazz.”

The Quintession typed away. “Hmm, another grounder. It seems we haven’t interacted with you yet- that’s a future event. Interesting.” Jazz was about to question what that meant, but the Quintesson had moved on.

“And you?”

Soundwave just stared at the Quintesson, saying nothing. The Quintession flicked his wrist, and Soundwave sank to his knees and made a gurgling cry but still said nothing.

Starscream took a step forward, and the Quintesson turned on him. “Care to join him, Decepticon?”

“No…[glitch] master,” Starscream said, and then looked like he had swallowed some poisoned energon. The word ‘master’ looked like it had tumbled right out of his processor, and his mouth was now agape.

“OH! A _seeker_. I was hoping we would get a seeker. Yes please, tell me what the designation of your brethren is, my little bird?”

Starscream looked petrified as words started tumbling out of his mouth. “Yes of course master. He is SW-17.” Starscream covered up his mouth with his servos, attempting to stop himself. The Quintesson typed away.

“ _Interesting_ , SW-17. A telepathic scribe. Seems you were not kind to your former masters, were you? You were stripped of your clearances and thrown into the entertainment divisions. Looks like you got quite good at performing for crowds,” he said viciously. “You will do well, if you get over your _malfunction_ , whatever it is.”

Soundwave’s servos were in a fist. “Query…” he said in a monotone. “Cassettes…?”

“Is that a question, or a statement? I can’t understand that stupid monotone.”

“Master…” began Starscream again, pained. “He’s asking about where his mini-transformers are, as he can no longer feel his bonds to them.”

“Ah,” replied the Quintesson. “Yes, we _severed_ all those bonds you might have outside this arena to make things fair.” Soundwave shivered as he put a servo to his chest.

“Query: Still… Function?”

“Hmm, I mean we disposed of them, so I don’t exactly follow.”

Soundwave was moving in an instant, so quickly that the Quintesson barely had time to flick his wrist. “I would have thought you’d be _pleased_ , they were parasites to a clearly superior frame!” Soundwave fell to the ground and convulsed.

“[glitch]M-master, please, when you say disposed, can you please elaborate…” Starscream felt his servos turn upward in a plaintive fashion, almost of their own accord. He also fell to his knees.

“We removed them from you and left them on the planet. They resisted as I recall and might have taken some damage, but I think they still ‘function.’” The Quintesson sounded put-out.

Jazz and Prowl watched as the tape deck still clenched his fists but seemed not ready to attack again. They shared a look of surprise. They knew Soundwave had been close to the cassettes, but they hadn’t been aware that he shared bonds with them. 

“And you, my pretty little bird? Your designation.”

“M-master I am SS-22,” Starscream replied, struggling. The Quintesson nodded and typed away.

“Ah yes, SS-22. Created after we left, but of course we still have some info for you, don’t we now? Seems you developed quite a bit of speed and- my goodness, a seeker with a _degree_.” The creature tsked his tongue behind his mask. “I’m impressed I suppose. That is _definitely not_ what you were designed for.” Starscream’s optics glowed intensely but he said nothing.

“Hmm, it seems I will need to send in a repair android to fix you four up a little. Those wounds you all have are going to put you at a disadvantage against everyone else competing. Now you two,” said the Quintesson, indicating Prowl and Jazz. “Don’t think for a moment we don’t see you over there being close to being spark-bound. You try it, and we will dispose of you. Things must be fair!” This generated a lot of confused looks from the Cybertronians. What did bonds have to do with being fair? What the slag was going on?

Jazz felt like he attempting to wrap up, but he had so many questions still. “Why us four in particular? Why the seconds and thirds of the armies?”

The creature tilted its head. “Frankly, we feel that those who work behind the scenes are just as important as those out front, and we were curious about what our children had gotten up to,” he replied. “And also, as much as you are _deeply important_ to your respective causes, you are also… expendable. Should the games not go in your favor, we will only have meddled a tiny bit.”

Jazz narrowed his optics behind his visor. There was something else to this, but he couldn’t quite put a digit on it. “So… what are the rules of these games?”

“Oh yes, yes! While each mission might be different in goal, they all feature one thing in common: you just need to survive. You can lose a game and still possibly win the overall, but I wouldn’t recommend it. Your opponents are just as deadly as you are.”

“Deadly,” Prowl repeated.

“Oh yes of course! You are expected and encouraged to kill, maim, or otherwise render ineffective any other participant. Our viewers like that.”

“What do we care about the viewers?” Starscream said. “M-master.” He cursed under his breath.

“There are some games where your popularity will come into play. But not for a while yet. Don’t worry, you’ll have time to make them love you.”

The Quintesson put away his datapad into subspace. “Now you are likely quite disoriented, and I could not blame you for harboring malevolent thoughts towards me and the rest of the Quintessions right now. I know how _precious_ your little civil war is to you and we will want you to get right back to it soon enough. But you are going to have to put those thoughts away if you want to _survive_ here. You four are our _guests_ as you didn’t necessarily volunteer to be here, but everyone competing against you? They _chose_ to be here.”

The Quintesson sighed. “You can call me Artuz, and I will be your handler. I will give you a few hours to collect yourselves, but when I come back, you had better be more congenial. The cameras like that.”

Artuz left the four and walked back out the door that materialized and disappeared when he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The “former” designations they all have I came up with by combining the first-ish letter of their name and their first Japanese toy model number. Similar to Alpha Trion originally being A-3.


	3. Chapter 3

Jazz looked around the room at the sorry state of his new “teammates.” Soundwave looked like he was coming out of whatever stupor he had fallen into and was actively observing the room. Starscream looked like he was trying to clean off his glossa.

Prowl looked like he was about to break. Jazz wanted to wrap his arms around him, embrace him and tell him everything was going to be alright, that he would get them out of this mess, but he knew that they were being observed. He wasn’t sure exactly what the Quintesson had meant when he said they things had to be fair about being spark-bound, but he imagined that embracing Prowl right now might piss them off.

“Well,” Jazz said. “Let’s make a deal then,” he said, looking at the two Decepticons as he clasped his servos together. Soundwave had whipped his helm to Jazz and looked expectant. Starscream’s eyes had slowly moved to him, but his face remained impassive. “I think if we work together, we stand a better chance of getting out of this alive than if we stand apart.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Prowl said. Surprisingly, he seemed more animated now that Starscream was being obstinate. 

“There is no way in the _PIT_ that I am going to help either of you survive. I’m not convinced this isn’t some kind of elaborate plot of yours to get information from us. Soundwave and I will do simply fine without your help. Right, Soundwave?”

The tape-deck was looking at Jazz. “Starscream: Reconsider.”

“WHAT,” he replied. “What in primus-name has gotten into you that you would even _consider-“_ Starscream was cut-off suddenly by Soundwave looming over him. He had approached so quickly that Prowl hadn’t even seen him until he was standing right in front of Starscream. The seeker looked surprised but scowled, putting his hands on his hips. “I outrank you, you _bolts-for-brains_ , and what I say goes. I understand you’re hurting,” he said more gently, “but we have got to stick to our principles.”

“Starscream: Wasting Time.” Soundwave seemed to increase in intensity, and Prowl realized he was using his telepathy on the seeker. Starscream realized it too, and after being shocked for a moment, looked pained.

“Alright, alright, just show me what you want-“ he started, before he gasped and fell to his knees, holding his helm. “Slow _down_ , primus you are going to-“ His faceplate became frightened, in pain, and desperately trying to grab a hold of Soundwave who just looked down at him pathetically. Jazz took a step forward, but Prowl stopped him.

“If they need to have a moment, let them,” Prowl said, his faceplate dark. 

Finally, it seemed that Soundwave relented. Starscream gasped again, and his optics welled up with cleaning fluid. “Starscream: Needs to be aware of the enemy,” Soundwave said.

After a few more moments, Starscream eventually stood looking shaken and humiliated but just nodded. It was a wonder that Soundwave didn’t do that more often to keep Starscream in line. But there might be a reason for that.

“So let’s take stock of the situation then,” Jazz continued. “On the negative, we are here, no weapons, and we have to work together. On the positive, we still have our T-Cogs enabled, and we can work together.”

“Two of those things were the same, Jazz,” Prowl said, squeezing the bridge of his nose-plate.

“Yep, I think that’s the long and short of it,” he replied with a wink.

“Private Comms: Deactivated,” Soundwave said, adding to their list of woes.

“Subspace too seems to be inaccessible,” Prowl added. “Fuel?”

“Half-tank,” Jazz said. Soundwave and Starscream nodded, indicating the same.

“Quarter tank but hey I can run on fumes,” Prowl said sighing. Jazz scowled but decided not to comment.

“It seems everyone here knows a lot more about the Quintessons than I do,” Starscream said bitterly, changing the subject. “Can someone explain to me why I… I… keep…”

“Starscream: Can resist it, it will just take time,” Soundwave said. “Quintessons programmed the seekers a lot more deeply than other transformers.” 

“You’ve probably never had the programming activate before,” Prowl added.

Starscream looked sullen. “Yes, but _how_? How do I resist it? I was _trying,_ ” he said desperately. 

“Starscream: Try replacing Master with Mister or something similar but less prostrate. Move from there.” Starscream sighed but nodded. Jazz thought he looked so much younger than he had ever seen him before. 

They all startled when the door opened again and four white, mech-sized beings appeared and flooded into their room. These must be the androids Artuz mentioned. They had many appendages, some were hands, some were tentacles, others looked like tools and keys. They had a completely smooth, blank face displaying no facial features, just a single little blue light at the top indicating they were active. 

In a brief moment, it occurred to Jazz that these things were like Tranformers but lacked sentience. He imagined that they had been created after the Quintessons lost Cybertrons to fill in the gap from their favorite pets.

“D-don’t touch me!!!” Starscream shrieked as his android started to poke and prod his plating on his side. It looked disturbingly like white and gray tongues gliding over his frame. Prowl growled at his android that was paying a lot of attention to his hurt leg. Jazz and Soundwave were undamaged, so their Androids merely offered them an energon cube that came out of their chest.

“Autobots: Test fuel first,” Soundwave warned. He had put a single digit in the cube that was offered and was clearly running diagnostics. Jazz was kind of amused but did the same. Out of nowhere, Soundwave’s visor flashed and then he slapped the cube against the wall, where it contacted and shattered. “Energon: Laced with sedative,” he said, almost angrily.

His android’s light turned red, and the many appendages shaped like tentacles grabbed Soundwave by the arms and legs. The android then forcibly removed his facemask as Soundwave attempted to struggle. For the first time ever, Jazz could see the marred mouth of the Decepticon third-in-command, and it was twisted in a grimace of fury. “RELEASE ME!” he said with a bellow.

The android produced another cube of energon. It quickly grabbed Soundwave’s cheekplates and squeezed so that the tape-deck would have to keep his mouth open.

“Soundwave! Just drink it!” Starscream said, as he was being held against the ground and forcibly repaired. Apparently, he had struggled too much to be allowed to remain upright.

Soundwave’s visor flashed again as he attempted to shake his head his head. One of tape-deck’s arms was able to get free, where he was able to push the offered cube back into the android and break the glass of the cube so that the energon filled its body cavity. This seemed to cause the thing to short, and he released Soundwave who rubbed his cheekplates where he had been roughly treated.

At this point, the room that had been a bright white changed as the lights turned red. The doorway materialized again, and another creature barreled into the room. This thing was the same size as the mechs and the androids, and it looked _angry_. It was green like the Quintessons but had a gaping maw that never closed with rows of sharp teeth. Spikes covered its body, and they looked like they could impale someone. This thing didn’t wear a mask, and instead of tentacle appendages it had arms and legs. It made straight for Soundwave and started to beat the slag out of him.

Jazz didn’t know what possessed him, but he ran over and tried to pull Soundwave away from the aggressor. “He’s very, very sorry,” Jazz said, _feeling_ the danger that the creature represented. Fear curled around his processor as something very, very deep programmed into him long ago in his frame’s beginning reared its head the closer he got to this creature. It was clear Soundwave felt it too as he grabbed a hold of Jazz, seeking help even if it came from the Autobot.

Prowl yelled over the din, “You have to get on your knees!” he said as his android also was forcibly repairing him. “On your knees, servos up!”

Jazz quickly took his partner’s advice and fell to his knees, but not before kicking a leg into the Decepticon so that Soundwave did the same. He put his hands up and reluctantly Soundwave followed suit.

The creature stopped his onslaught and nodded. It turned around and left, the lights turning back to white in the room.

Their respective androids, now fully functional again put a cube of energon in each of their upturned servos, evidently willing to try again as if nothing had just happened. Jazz shrugged and drank his fully, before looking to Soundwave to do the same.

The tape-deck was staring at the cube in his servos with anger. Jazz bumped his shoulder into the Decepticon, which seemed to snap him back to what was before him. He too drank what had been offered.

“Got a problem with being sedated, huh?” Jazz said congenially, bowing to the android in thanks for the fuel. “If they were going to kill us, they would have done it already.”

Soundwave shivered. “It’s what comes next I don’t like,” he replied, sadly.

Starscream and Prowl we both released and similarly offered energon. Knowing what would happen if they refused, they drank their shares quickly. Jazz felt some of the effects of the energon starting and leaned against the wall, sliding to the floor. Soundwave similarly sat next to him against the wall.

“What comes next?” he said sleepily.

“Inspection,” Soundwave replied. 

Prowl came up and sat next to his partner, their arms touching. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

Starscream sat next to Soundwave, a little farther away. Starscream still looked pissed at the tape-deck for the mind-meld-gone-wrong, as he brought his knees to his chassis.

Prowl leaned his helm on Jazz’s shoulders as he started to slip into recharge.

“Inspection will be uncomfortable,” Soundwave said. “But over soon.”

“We will have to find a chance to fill each other in… When we wake up.”

He didn’t hear a reply before the was just inky blackness.


	4. Chapter 4

Prowl woke up with his head lolled forward, his chin touching his chassis. His arms were bound above him and his feet similarly were bound below him. And directly in front of his optics was a spindly, masked Quintesson.

He was able to slow down his reaction a little, as he knew there was no where to go. But this was a deep-seated reaction; a nightmare he was now living out in real time. He tried to keep his face impassive as he looked at the creatures he had help kick off Cybertron all those eons ago.

He had been made to _enforce_ their laws, so he didn’t necessarily interact with them as much. He never served as a slave or in any kind close proximity to them; but the morally ambiguous side of him that was willing to do anything to achieve his goals? That came from _them._

He hated them for it.

He could remember a hundred different ways to kill them. Many of them he’d had a chance to do himself. They weren’t particularly strong, and their armor could not stand the weight of an average Cybertronian. But they were cunning. And _far_ more advanced.

Somehow, they couldn’t fathom the Transformers rising up against their rule and slowly kicking them off planet. He had taken great pleasure in proving to them just how much they could do.

The one in front of him cocked its head to the side and reached up a tentacle to touch his insignia on his chest. He couldn’t draw back any further in disgust as his restraints wouldn’t allow it. He would just have to settle for a hateful glare and the best invectives he could muster.

“….”

Sadly, only static had come out. He should have known better. They were so fragging cunning after all.

He looked around the room and saw that Jazz was also awake, giving him a soft look from across the room. The mech nodded at him, which seemed to say he was alright. Prowl also nodded, even as the tentacle kept moving across his chassis.

He saw that Soundwave was awake, still without his mouthplate. His lips were in a tight line as a few Quintessions pointed and were discussing him. 

Starscream from what he could tell fared the worst out of them.

A large crowd of Quintessons were around him, taking turns touching his wings. The seeker seemed like he could not get over it, and every time a new touch came, his shuddered and tried to thrash in his restraints. Eventually another android came by and forced him to drink more sedative which did finally seem to calm him down and accept the unnerving, but overall benign touching of the spindly, awful creatures.

Finally, the room dimmed a few times, and the Quintessons started to leave. Once the last one left, the lights in the room turned from bright white to a dark blue and their restraints were released. Everyone was able to catch themselves except Starscream, who just kind of fell, faceplate first, and stayed there.

Artuz strolled in and snapped his fingers. A large platform rose out the middle of the room, and underneath the top there was a compartment that had some polish, some rags, and some energon. The bottom of the compartment was flush with the floor, much to their dismay. No hope of escape that way. “I hope you all will get cleaned up, I know inspection makes you all feel _dirty_ ,” he said drawing out the last word. “Sorry about SS-22, we just had so many requests for him, and he was moving too much.”

Starscream groaned as he just curled into a ball on the ground.

“Now comes the next part. You all are assigned a capture mission first in a lovely little arena we made for this purpose. The rules are simple! You need to capture the opponent’s emblem and return to your base with it before they get yours and return to theirs.”

“Capture the flag, huh? Shouldn’t be too hard,” Jazz said.

Artuz seemed to nod. “In deference to you being _guests_ we did chose your opponent somewhat carefully. They will get more difficult as time goes on. But they are still capable of ceasing your functions!” he said almost cheerily.

“Weapons?” Soundwave asked. Prowl couldn’t blame him; he was thinking the same thing.

“Of course! You will have your pick once inside the arena. I’ll save you some time and let you know that they don’t work outside the arena.” Artuz went over and gently placed a tentacle on Starscream. “I’m afraid he’s going be a little woozy for a few hours, but he should be good before the mission.” Starscream shivered and pulled away from the contact.

Prowl didn’t exactly feel sympathy for the seeker. He was a perpetual thorn in the side of the Autobots, and when he was on the battlefield things usually got more dangerous or at least more chaotic. But he did understand the general terror that the Quintessons inspire deep in their processors. And since the seeker was a Golden Age model, and therefore a little younger than the rest of them, he never had the joy of being under their rule. Might explain some things.

“Can you tell us anything about this arena?” Prowl asked.

“Unfortunately, not much. All I can tell you is that it is in an old city. Any more would be spoilers!”

“And how many missions will there be after this one?” Jazz asked leaning on the platform.

“Ah, we will have to see how you do!” Artuz turned to leave. “I hope you win. I’m growing fond of you all.” He turned and left.

Prowl clenched a fist. Growing fond… of them?

Soundwave watched him leave and then looked at Starscream, still on the ground. Prowl thought he might go to the ailing seeker, but he did not.

“Strategize,” Soundwave said, turning to Prowl.

Prowl nodded. “Agreed. We will need to discuss roles we should take to secure our victory.” As uncomfortable as he was being this close to Soundwave, he felt good strategizing and using his processor for something other than ruminating over the doom he felt coming.

Jazz had walked over to Starscream while the other two were chatting.

“Hey ya, Screamer, how you doing?” Jazz said, smiling and sitting on the floor.

“I feel like I hate everyone, especially you,” Starscream replied into the floor.

“So no different than normal then, huh,” Jazz laughed. Still, he knew the sedative was strong, and the seeker had been… examined more closely than the rest of them.

“Do you _need_ something Jazz?” he rasped. 

“Just checking on you because I think your flight is really going to come in handy here soon. And keeping you alive keeps the rest of us alive longer to beat the slag out of each other later.”

Starscream huffed his vents. “I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure? I’ll give you a hug if you promise not to bite me.”

Starscream turned his helm and his red optics were so pained, Jazz’s smile faded. 

“It will help you to talk about it, and I know that Soundwave isn’t exactly full of warm fuzzies.”

A huff of vents. “Ha, no.”

“Starscream, from one soldier to another,” Jazz said as kindly as he could, “Right now you are our weak link, and I’m just trying to find out how to help.”

Starscream stared at him for another moment and then started to pull himself up off the floor, holding his helm in his servo. “Give me some of that polish.” Jazz happily grabbed him some as the seeker leaned his back against the wall.

Starscream took the offered rag and began to preen and clean his frame, rubbing particularly hard on his wings. “I don’t like being _touched_ ,” he said, bitterly.

“Totally get it,” Jazz said. “Those things are gross. I wonder why they were all over you, though. You got more action than a Michael Bay movie.”

“A what?”

“Nevermind,” Jazz said laughing a little. “I am glad we are working together, but I’m sorry Soundwave wasn’t gentler with… explaining it to you.”

“Decepticons aren’t _gentle_ ,” he said back. “…But the images helped me understand more of what we are up against.”

“What in particular?” said the saboteur.

Starscream looked like he was about to talk, but then glared at Jazz suspiciously. “I wasn’t sparked yesterday,” he said. “You come over here, pretending to _care_ just so I can give you some intel.”

Jazz’s smile hardened. “Listen, mech, I know we can’t just ignore the few millennia we’ve been beating the slag out of each other, but the more we share the more likely we can get out of this. And believe it or not… I do care. At least enough to save my own frame.”

Starscream frowned as he kept polishing his armor, trying to get the feeling of something still crawling across his plating off of him. Eventually he just sighed. “It wasn’t intel, as much as it was… emotions.” His optics flicked to the tape-deck. “Soundwave is not full of them, but when he does have them, they are quite potent. The… anger, the pain, the… guilt? That’s a foreign emotion.” The seeker wrinkled his noseplate.

Jazz almost burst out laughing, but he was able to stifle it. “Anything that will help us?”

Starscream flicked his optics back to Jazz. “We are going to have to play the game, and win. But even then, we have very little hope of them fulfilling their end of the bargain.”

“Been thinking the same thing. But we still gotta try. Looks like Prowl is about to blow a gasket, let’s jump back in there, shall we?” A conspiratorial grin and Jazz was up.

Starscream stood up as well. There had been plenty he had withheld from the saboteur. But he wasn’t sure he could break Soundwave’s trust in him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written with this Outrun/synthwave/instrumental piece in mind: Gutterpunk Kids (Cyberpunk) by Sami Matar
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v5vRaQeI_8M
> 
> If you wanted to know the vibe I was going for, give it a shot. The main theme is 4 notes that you will hear throughout (like our 4 protagonists? MAYBE), and I like to imagine this is like blaring from the speakers once the “counter” starts. 
> 
> I feel like I'm running a little manic in this chapter, and I apologize lol

“Just checking if we need to go over it again?”

“For the last, fragging time, _I got it_ ,” Starscream said with his arms crossed across his chassis.

“Sorry to keep checking, I just get the feeling of the four of us, you are most likely to go off-script,” Jazz said as he rolled his shoulders and stretched his arms in from of himself.

“Oh really? I thought _you_ were the king of improvisation,” the seeker smirked, looking out of their glass-encapsulated elevator that was taking them down to ground level.

What they saw before them was quite the marvel. It seemed like a giant, sprawling city-scape, the size as if it were made for beings such as the Cybertronians. It was slightly dilapidated, but not as much from disuse as much from blaster fire, explosions, and random splatterings of blood of varying color. It was also dark, as if the whole city was frozen in a perpetual nighttime. The city was lit by neon lights and signs; pinks, yellows, blues, reds all glowed in the city, reflecting off the smooth surfaces of various shaped buildings. Artificial rain poured down from the roof that was about two miles above the city. Starscream’s wings twitched in anticipation.

This encapsulated structure was _massive_. Arena didn’t quite cover it, as there were no stands or Quintessons anywhere that they could see. But already, they could see camera drones flying over the arena and even some training on them.

The elevator reached the ground level of the city. They emerged to see four bipedal aliens with smooth, purple skin, and black armor. They looked similar to reptiles on earth, but they were much bigger; maybe a couple heads shorter than the Cybertronians. Despite their organic-looking inspiration, it did appear they were machine-based like they were.

“Well, it appears we have the honor of defeating the Cybertronians first,” came the one that stood in front of the rest. A big hulk of a creature, and its white eyes looked over them with disdain. “The favored children of the Quintessons look… wanting.”

“You’ve heard of us?” Prowl asked cautiously.

“Of course! Your reputation of spurning our creators has preceded you. We know you for the selfish, foolish creatures that you are.”

Jazz shook his helm in disbelief. “Something tells me you guys need to get a different history book.”

Some looks of condescension were shared between the members of the opposing team. Then another one, lankier than the first spoke. “Do those things work?” it said, looking at Starscream’s wings. 

“What _things_ exactly?” Starscream replied sweetly.

“Those flappy fins on your back. Are they for swimming?”

A twitch of the optic. “I _suppose_ you will have to find out,” he replied. “You look like you are descendants of Palaxians, are you not?”

The other four looked surprised and unnerved that Starscream was correct. The first one spoke again. “Mmm, the pretty one seems smart.”

“You think he’s pretty? I like the black and white one,” said another. Prowl shifted uncomfortably.

“Pretty sure at least _one_ of you was originally a pleasure-bot. That’s what the Quintessons used you for, right?”

Prowl didn’t think it was possible, but Soundwave seemed to go even more still than he usually was.

“I’m going to enjoy killing you,” Starscream’s smile darkened his faceplate. Jazz rolled his optics.

“If you can get to us. We’ve done this arena a hundred times.”

“ **WHAT DELIGHTFUL BANTER** ,” came a booming voice that echoed across the city. “ **BUT IT IS TIME TO ESTABLISH YOUR BASES. HERE ARE YOUR EMBLEMS. THE TERRITORY LINE SPLITS HERE.”**

As a large coin about the size of a Cybertronian frisbee fell from the sky, a long glowing yellow line appeared on the ground, separating the Cybertronians from the Paraxaliens. Jazz jumped up to catch their emblem and landed in a flourish. The Palaxians tried to stifle looks of awe.

“ **YOU MAY CHOOSE ANYWHERE WITHIN YOUR TERRITORY TO PLACE THE EMBLEM. TO WIN THE GAME, YOU MUST GET THE EMBLEM WITHIN [5 FEET] OF YOUR ORIGINALLY PLACED EMBLEM. IT WILL BE MAKRED BY A GREEN SPHERE. GOOD LUCK!”**

It dimly registered with the Cybertronians that the units had automatically converted in their audios. A large screen embedded in the roof above them had a countdown for 15 minutes. 

“So Starscream, what can you tell us about our friends over here?” Jazz said.

Starscream smirked. “They will not pose a _huge_ obstacle. Although,” he said tilting his helm. “I do seem to recall them having pretty good camouflage.”

“Camouflage?”

“Yes, as in not quite invisible, but also hard to point out. I’m sure you remember what the word means?” Starscream scoffed. But then he continued with narrowed optics. “Something about their circuits is able help them blend in. I would bet their dark skin and dark armor was on purpose in this arena as well.”

The saboteur turned a flashing smile to the seeker. “And when did you encounter these things before?”

Starscream’s mirth evaporated. “A long time ago. Let’s get moving.” Jazz shrugged but smiled to himself. Maybe they could get more intelligence out of this adventure after all.

* * *

They were running in their territory. It was clear Starscream’s struts weren’t exactly made for the sprinting that Jazz and Prowl could do, but he kept pace and Soundwave was just behind him. They were quickly trying to map out their territory get a sense for what they had to work with. Everyone was quiet except for the clicks of their pedes and splashes as they ran through puddles in the dimly lit city.

The buildings were tight with occasional alleyways and old shops and restaurants. There still was furniture and even decayed dust of what might have been food or objects scattered about as if the inhabitants had just disappeared hundreds of years ago. It occurred to Jazz that this was not a _set_ despite how Artuz had made this seem like a pageant. This place had been an actual city at one point.

Jazz knew the Quintessons were powerful creatures, but they seemed to have stolen a city from a planet just for one aspect of their _entertainment_. The scale of this operation was disturbing. 

The city smelled of humid asphalt and concrete. It faintly reminded him of some of the more metropolitan areas on Earth, but the emptiness was palpable.

“Are you sure we should put this thing in the middle of our area? Wouldn’t it make more sense to put it in the far back, or high up that only I can reach it?” Starscream said.

Prowl looked up at the counter as it kept ticking down until the match would start. “Putting it in the middle means we can all defend it easier.”

“In here,” Jazz called as he hooked left into a building. They followed up some steps and into a large floor of the building that looked like it used to be a cubicle farm. Jazz turned to his teammates. “Central location, defensible because of the stairs, limited windows for incursion… What do you mechs think?”

Starscream shrugged, indifferent. “I’m not on defense so whatever you want.” He folded his arms across his chassis.

Prowl rolled his optics. “Then why say anyth- nevermind. This looks good to me.” Soundwave observed around the room, and merely nodded. 

“Alright mechs, lets get the party started.” He set the emblem down and a faint green shimmer surrounded it, indicating the “goal line.” The light lit up their faceplates in its eerie glow. He looked around at the team and hoped they had a fighting chance at this.

Working together with the Decepticons made sense, but it also made Jazz’s plating crawl. There were going to be weapons and some other kind of mech aliens lurking in the shadows who had obviously done this more than them. They might even know the territory and the best places to hide. 

Of course, the Cybertronians had a few tricks up their sleeves as well. It seemed they didn’t quite understand how they transformed or that Starscream _did_ have some skills in the air. Also, it wasn’t like the Cybertronians were completely without ability in a war-like setting.

He looked to the seeker and threw his helm in the direction of the stairs. Starscream smirked and started to walk away and Jazz moved to follow.

Prowl stopped him by putting a servo on his shoulder. “Be careful out there. I don’t trust the wings.”

“I trust the ’wings’ to take care of himself, which right now does include us staying online to help him. It’ll be okay,” he said gently, turning to Prowl and leaning in close. He was met by the eerie stare of Soundwave over Prowl’s shoulder, watching them. Jazz narrowed his eyes but just embraced Prowl, carefully. _What the frag is that about?_

Jazz turned and ran down the stairs and out the building. As he turned the corner, he suddenly found the barrel of an alien blaster pistol pointed in his face. 

“Seems ‘the wings’ already found some weapons,” came the silky voice. Jazz put his servos up in a calming gesture as his optics locked with the seeker's. Starscream cocked his helm to the side and smiled, before turning the blaster around his servo so that the grip faced Jazz. “But this one doesn’t suit me,” he sniffed.

Jazz grabbed it quickly and fired a single shot right past Starscream’s helm. The seeker’s red optics had widened slightly, but his look of amusement had only intensified. “Thank you, mech. It appears it will suit me just fine.” The seeker chuckled darkly and picked up his own blaster. They both began to run towards the yellow line which cut across a large road intersection, which looked like it used to be a thriving main street of the dilapidated city.

Jazz was an adaptable mech by nature, and he knew that he could figure out the game quickly. The thing that was bothering him was the big picture here. Were they just going to be playing games for the Quints entertainment for all eternity? Maybe these Palaxians would be chatty.

A great tone chimed indicating that the countdown had finished.

As they reached the line, they saw the two Palaxians who had spoken earlier staring at them from their territory. “Oh I had hoped it would be you two,” the bigger one said. He pulled out two sharp steel axes that glinted in the neon glow of the city around them. “Let’s dance, Cybertronians.”

He leaned forward and started sprinting towards them, headed for Starscream. The seeker cackled malevolently as he pulled out a jagged sword he had apparently found and crouched, waiting for the Palaxian to reach him. 

Jazz noticed movement from the other one and dove into a doorway nearby, dodging a few blasts from a blaster rifle. He returned fire, seeing the lanky one dive out of the way to some debris as well. 

The bulky Palaxian had reached Starscream and had lunged forward with the axes, aiming for the seeker’s throat. Starscream leaned back out of range and met his barrage, using his sword to deflect, spinning around to give his own attack. They traded blows like this, with the Palaxian acrobatically dodging Starscream’s sword, and the seeker able to move deftly out of the way. At one point, Starscream stumbled on some debris on the ground, and the Palaxian pounced, pinning Starscream to the ground with the axes at his throat.

Jazz was advancing up the road, using the shop’s doorways as cover as he got closer to the other Palaxian. He had hoped they would have some time before directly confronting everyone as they were supposed to be running recon into the other combatant’s territory. So far things seemed like a stalemate, as long as the other two Palaxians that were missing were running defense. 

He kind of wished he had traded places with Prowl as he would have been able to strategize better on the fly. But he didn’t think Starscream and he could even begin to work together yet.

Speaking of the turbo-rat-with-wings, it looked like he was in a bad position. “Hey, ‘Screamer, I didn’t think you were so cheap for a quickie on the ground,” he taunted, as he waited for his blaster to cool down. The Palaxian was straddling him, moving his axes closer and closer to the mech’s throat.

Starscream snarled and twisted in the Palaxian’s grip, managing to find purchase and kick him off. He gingerly rubbed his neck pulled out his blaster pistol and fired a few shots at his aggressor who was thrown off balance. One struck him in the side, and he cried out in pain but slunk backwards, disengaging.

“He couldn’t afford me,” he groused. Then with a growl he transformed and took off into the sky. Jazz had smirked, glad he could still manipulate the seeker. It was quite like their usual repartee, but he was happy it worked even if they were on the same team temporarily.

He was also gladdened to see the reaction the Palaxians had to Starscream’s form, rapidly rising into the air, transforming into the sleek jet-alt. They looked genuinely shocked, if not a little awed. Starscream hit the sound barrier, and the loud crack of a sonic boom reverberated through the city, shattering many glass windows in a glitter of reflective pieces.

“He just… transformed?” The lanky one said as it uncovered its audios, awestruck.

“They’re called _transformers_ , you idiot! Pay attention to the other one!”

But it was too late, as Jazz had used the distraction to close the distance and got in a great punch to the lanky Palaxian. 

* * *

Starscream felt tension roll off his frame with the cold sting of the artificial rain pouring down from above. Flying in weather (other than ice and snow) always did this for him, and given their circumstances, he could not guarantee that he would have another chance to greet the sky with his wings anytime soon. Once he got high enough, he transformed back into bi-pedal mode and crossed his arms angrily. 

The other three had spent hours convincing him that he would make great bait.

Because _that_ is exactly what Megatron used him for as well! Flashy, tri-colored seeker, flying over top, loud and obnoxious, drawing everyone’s eyes to him _. Of course_ he stood out; you had two of the most boring mechs in both armies playing defense! Jazz at least had a personality, even if it was annoying, but he was better at being a spy than bait.

Starscream’s optics scanned the city below, looking for movement. Unfortunately, he saw nothing; just dark rain hitting the roofs of skyscrapers and a dim glow of neon signs.

* * *

Jazz had transformed and was screeching deeper into enemy territory. The other two Palaxians had attempted to get to higher ground, apparently considering Starscream a greater threat to the game than he was. Just as well; all according to plan.

He threw his sensors out looking for heat, UV, movement, anything he could find. He found and gathered a few more weapons, collecting them by magnetizing them to his frame since he still didn’t have access to subspace. Then, thank Primus, he saw the break he was looking for.

A flash of green. He recognized it immediately that it matched the same color that their emblem’s “goal line” had put off. Jazz had quite possibly found the other team’s emblem.

He felt his spark surge with adrenaline. Despite the circumstances, he was having _fun_. He felt that the only other mech that might be getting as much enjoyment out of this game was likely Starscream. That thought was unpleasant, but it was true.

He transformed back to bi-pedal and put his back up against the wall, his blaster up so he would be ready to shoot if anything got in his way. Quietly, he snuck up the alleyway towards the faint greenish glow.

* * *

Prowl knew that Soundwave wasn’t going to be the best of company, so he offered to do a sweep outside. The Decepticon had replied “negative” in that infuriatingly know-it-all way, and suggested he go instead. You know, because of telepathy. He could sense enemies coming.

Not having comms was turning out to be a very big deal, and he hated not having a line to Jazz. The seeker wasn’t even trusted by his own fellow Decepitcons and now Jazz had to rely on him?

It occurred to him that Soundwave might be looking for weapon. It was only a matter of time before the Decepticons turned on them; of that, Prowl was certain. He just hoped he could get the most out of them before they decided to behave like fragging Decepticons. As the moments ticked by, he grew more and more nervous, and he almost ran out of their “base” to confront the damn tape-deck.

But then the sound of a deafening sonic boom shattered many of the windows nearby.

Someone cursed under their breath. Someone super close. Damn that Soundwave, someone got by him!

Prowl pulled out a blaster and fired at thele direction of the sound, where a creature squawked and rolled across the broken glass about twenty feet away from him, across the cubicles. Now the pattering of rain and the sound of glass falling from other buildings filled his audios. He thought he had missed or at least grazed the thing but couldn’t quite see around the furniture of the room. He ducked in a crouch and stepped around a pillar, waiting until he could hear more.

He stared ahead into the darkness ahead of him. He waited and held his intakes, closing his optics. Then he heard the click of a barrel right against the side of his helm.

“Nothing personal,” the Palaxian said quietly. 

Blaster fire from a beam rifle ripped through the Palaxian beside Prowl and with a strangled cry it fell to the ground, lifeless. Prowl turned around the pillar to see Soundwave standing there with a rifle, still smoking from its single shot.

The tape deck said nothing as he pulled away from the sights and inclined his head towards the Autobot. Prowl glared right back. “I supposed you knew he was there the whole time,” he said, clenching a fist.

Soundwave said nothing because it didn’t need to be said. It was obvious. “Traditionally I thought Autobots gave thanks for life-saving measures.”

“Traditionally I thought Decepticons didn't help out Autobots without ulterior motives,” Prowl ground out.

Soundwave shrugged and went back outside. Prowl knew he was mocking him, and it took most of his effort not to run after the creep and “thank” him personally for using him as bait.

They had _all_ agreed Starscream would be better at that anyway.

* * *

Starscream’s HUD flashed that he had incoming fire. He quickly transformed again and shot straight up into the air, twisting as he did so just as a large ground-to-air missile caught his signal. He cursed in Cybertronian, quickly sweeping the ground with his sensors for where the missile had come from. His panic spread across his wings as the missile gained on him, and he was no closer to repaying the mech that had sent him this unwanted present.

Then he saw a wisp of smoke and a glint of metal. He banked to his left, pulling enormous G-forces on his frame but delighting every strain of his cables and plating. This is what he was made to do.

Right? Distantly the words of the Quintesson echoed in his processor, casting doubt.

Form following function was the purview of tired philosophers in Iacon. And though he would always be called the “academy mech” by his compatriots in the early Decepticon army, and as intelligent and learned as he was, _this_ is really what he loved. Chasing, fighting, and otherwise engaging an enemy was what made his energon quicken in his veins. He had been delighted with Megatron at the toppling of the shining towers of Iacon that represented ancient Autobot knowledge; the same knowledge that had oppressed Decepticons just like the Quintessons did. He’d happily burned data centers, museums, and other cultural artifacts in the name of starting over, starting fair. 

He realized now that maybe he should have learned more first.

His bank made the missile do a wide turn itself, losing the distance it had gained on him. He made a straight shot for the thing that had shot at him, barrel-rolling and twisting as if he too were a bullet targeting prey. He devoured the rapid panic showing in the mech as he approached far too quickly in his alt-form. And just as he was about to collide into the building, Starscream transformed into a stop and sneered.

“I believe this belongs to you?” he said wickedly, indicating the missile hungrily approaching his back. The slack jaw, the drop of the missile-launcher, and the slumped shoulders as the thing realized its fate would fuel Starscream’s daydreams happily for some time to come. With a demented laugh, he cut his turbines and dropped into the space between the buildings, transformed and jetted the frag out of there as fast as he could go.

The explosion of reds and yellows behind him was marvelous.


	6. Chapter 6

Jazz moved up the wall as silently as he could manage. He got close to the doorway and looking down at the ground confirmed that the faint green glow was still there. His optics behind his visor searched the room, but he could see nothing, though he took Starscream’s warning to spark. These things were good at blending in, apparently.

With a rush, he tumbled into the room, landing on his knees and his blaster drawn. A flick of his optics at the source of the glow then made his spark sink. 

It wasn’t their emblem. It was a green neon sign that had been arranged to create the same kind of glow. It was a trap.

He heard the rustling of a creature, and without hesitating, Jazz leapt into the darkness after it. Jazz heard a loud shriek from thing he tackled and a flash of something metal ripped into his arm plating, but he was able to knock the weapon, apparently an energy dagger, to the ground. He was bleeding energon, but it was a shallow nick.

The Palaxian was panting heavily, almost hyperventilating. It struggled in Jazz’s grip and stared at him with white, terrified optics, but said nothing.

“So how about I _not_ kill you but you help me out,” he said smiling. He hoped the smile read friendly and not predatory. 

“I-I won’t tell you where our emblem is!”

“That’s fine,” Jazz said shrugging. “I figured. I have other questions though.”

The Palaxian narrowed its eyes, smelling deceit. “What _kinds_ of questions?”

“Can I let you go? Or do I have to hold you to get you to comply?”

The Palaxian huffed. “Those are stupid questions. Let me go and I will answer more.”

“Excellent,” Jazz said, trying to stifle his optic from twitching under his visor as he let the Palaxian up and pulled back a few feet. “So, name’s Jazz. Yours?”

“I’m Coeven. You are a strange combatant,” it said confusedly.

“Yes Coeven, I am very, very strange.” The Palaxian was smaller than the other three, and not knowing their anatomy or culture, he wasn’t sure if it had gender or sex. “So why do you all willingly participate in these things?”

“The Quintessons… reward us for participating,” Coeven said, slowly. Almost as if that were not the whole story.

“How many games do you need to get out of this mess?”

Coeven shrugged. “You may play the same game for thousands of years or you play a different game every match. They are awash in infinite wisdom,” Coeven said, throwing arms out exasperatedly. Jazz picked up on the cues. The Palaxian was being careful not to criticize the Quintessons because likely they were listening. “Eventually though you die, are rebuilt as a piece of the game, or you get to go home. But what is the point when they sever your bonds?”

Jazz froze at that. “Why _did_ they do that?” His mind was racing at this information. The Quint Artuz had said earlier that bonds made things unfair somehow. And now other participants in these games were talking about the same thing. Odd.

“Going home to a planet that I don’t recognize and to people who have moved on without me does not strike me as the reward I want. Maybe it makes us fight harder to get back and fix our broken bonds as soon as possible. Maybe it makes better storytelling for their broadcasts. Maybe it is just unfair. But you are _guests_ ,” it hissed, with slight anger. “You will be treated more fairly than most. Maybe you will go home. Maybe you become a glorified energon dispenser back in my quarters. I cannot say.”

“You dislike guests?”

“Guest come in, all confused, wanting to break out, break the system, cheat, or find some way to avoid what needs to be done. You want to _talk_ like we are doing now. Pointless. Boring.”

Jazz saw that Coeven was getting irritated quickly. 

“One more question then,” he said smiling again. “Where _is_ your emblem?”

“I had already told you I was not going to tell you-“

“Worth a try,” he said and smiled as he pulled out a flashbang grenade.

* * *

Soundwave burned. Everything burned. Deep in his spark, there was a nothing, and the nothing was where _something_ was supposed to be. It hurt. And he knew somewhere, if they still functioned, they were hurting too.

He waited for the numbness. He knew it would come. He’d felt it before, and he would likely feel it again. He could get through this pain. Soundwave would get through this pain for them.

The Autobot Prowl was saying something to him. He did a sweep of minds and felt no malicious intent so things must be fine. But he was still saying something. 

“…explosion? What was that?”

He shrugged and went back to his pain. He nursed it, stoked it, felt it settle next to his wounded, raw spark and smolder. It gave him meaning, and purpose. The Quintessons deserved nothing less but his unbridled hatred. He would make sure it was ready for them when the time came.

“..wave? Are you listening?” Still talking this one. He had already swept the area for minds nearby, what more did he want?

Wait. There is one nearby. A stray thought of malevolence. It was thinking about sniping him… no. Sniping Starscream. He was in the sights of a sniper rifle, and it was aimed at his spark chamber.

He tried to care. If only so that he could face Megatron after all of this. Megatron would demand to know how Starscream had offlined, likely all full of confusion, anger, relief, and grief. Soundwave was not sure what he would say.

Still the Autobot yammered on. He held out a digit, hoping that would silence him. It seemed to calm him for a moment.

“Starscream: In danger,” he said simply.

Prowl seemed confused that Soundwave wasn’t moving. “…you aren’t going to try and help him?”

Soundwave thought for a moment. “Our aide would give away emblem’s position.”

Prowl’s faceplate turned dark. “That is… cold. Even for a Decepticon.”

Soundwave considered those words and mulled them over. He rolled them over his processor and concluded that the black and white Autobot was correct. This was in fact very unfortunate behavior. He was compromised and should reevaluate his actions from now on.

“Prowl: Correct. Stay near emblem.”

Soundwave ran to the opposite building and tried to climb the steps as quickly as he could.

* * *

Starscream rolled out of his alt-mode and searched again with his optics. He’d completed a grid-pattern search of the entire city and could not find any other mech other than Jazz or any green light that would indicate their emblem. He knew they were good at camouflage, but this was on a level of skill that he had not anticipated.

He knew he was loud; his jet engines _crackled_ over the arena as he searched for anything that might be useful. They could probably hear him coming and quickly scatter out of the way like the cowardly alien mecha that they were. It was almost like they were cloaked, not just blending in.

Cloaked.

Primus. 

His faceplate lit up excitedly as he whipped around to transform in a quick movement. He knew _why_ he couldn’t find the emblem now. They were blocking it with their bodies, which made it blend in with the rest of their surroundings. It made so much more sense now why they had so often won.

He saw in his vision a laser sight from a beam rifle flashing him. 

“…Soundwave?” And in an instant, he knew. A warning.

He twisted in the air, just as a large caliber rifle ripped through his wings. He fell with little grace.

* * *

Jazz heard the shot and his spark stopped for a moment. He thought of Prowl and made a rare prayer to Primus that he still functioned. He then heard the shriek of Starscream, and he felt relief, and immediately afterward, guilt. He _hated_ Starscream, and yet, right now, he honestly hoped the stupid jet still functioned.

He ran in the direction of where the mech had fallen, seeing that he was on the roof of a building. He quickly ran up the steps to the roof and emerged out the top, seeing the seeker and wincing.

He was quite dented with his wings slashed, dripping energon. The wings might still be functional, but Jazz wasn’t an expert. The shot didn’t look fatal, but it did look painful. He was hunched over, grimacing in pain as he held one of his arms that appeared to have ceased functioning.

Primus he felt bad. They had all made fun of him for his stupid Quint programming, and they had brow-beat him into being the bait. This is what happened to bait. Bait gets shot.

Jazz went to him and sat beside him. When Starscream heard him, he pulled out his blaster and aimed, but then lowered it slowly when he saw it was him. “They _shot_ me,” he said, vocalizer laced with static. Jazz wanted to laugh at his indignity, but he didn’t have the spark.

“Yeah, they did, Starscream. I think you got one of theirs too, though.” Starscream’s faceplate scrunched into a pleased smirk, but it went back to pain in a hiss. 

“You gonna be alright? I can try and drag you back to our base if you want.”

Starscream looked at him with hopeful optics and looked like he was about to ask for exactly that. But then he stopped himself and just looked west.

“You… need to go. Due west, 2 miles, tall skyscraper. That’s where their emblem is.”

Jazz frowned. “I looked there, and I didn’t see anything.”

Starscream smiled. “They are hiding it with their bodies so it can’t be immediately seen. At least one of them. The one that shot me. Give ‘em Pit, would you?”

Jazz smiled back and touched the mech’s shoulder, which made Starscream tense. “Stay kicking, mech.” He quickly jumped off the roof to the ground below, transforming as he hit the ground with a thud. Squealing tires and he was gone.

Starscream growled as some of the camera drones got very, very close to him and his suffering.

* * *

Prowl heard the shot and the distant screech from the seeker and winced. Starscream had probably fallen out of the sky and was hurt, if not offlined, based on that cry he had heard. It frustrated him that he couldn’t talk to Jazz and find out the status of what was happening out there; he felt blind. If Starscream was hurt, then Jazz had no backup.

Prowl felt his fuel tanks seize when the red visor stepped out of the darkness followed by the rest of the dark blue mech of nightmares. He was able to relax after only a moment of conscious coaching. Soundwave came back in, looking… dejected? It was hard to know with the tape-deck. He had been behaving oddly… or odder that usual since this whole thing started.

“Is… Starscream…?”

“Still functions,” he said. “Damaged but... survivable.”

“So… you saved him. That’s… good.” Prowl had trouble with the words. The absurdity of the situation struck him suddenly, and he had to almost reboot his processor to come to terms with what he was suggesting.

“Prowl: Good at making decisions of moral quandary,” Soundwave said

Prowl’s optics narrowed slightly. “Uh, yeah I …suppose?”

Soundwave nodded as if they had come to agreement. “Soundwave: compromised. Prowl: assist Soundwave with moral judgement.”

Prowl felt his processor stall for a moment and just stared at the Decepticon. “What now? I’m sorry I don’t understand.”

“Soundwave: damaged. Require assistance with decision-making.”

Prowl kept moving his lip components, trying to form words and he just ended up lifting his servo to put it on the back of his neck with a confused look on his face. “…but I’m an Autobot? And… you’re a Decepticon? Won’t that conflict-“

“Irrelevant. For the purpose of escaping the Quintessons, Prowl’s judgement, however flawed, will be better than Soundwave’s.”

Prowl felt like almost any other Autobot in his shoes would just shrug and say ‘sounds good to me!’ But Prowl couldn’t bring it himself to let this go. He was the _military strategist_ for the _Autobots_ , not some conscience guide to a telepathic enemy soldier in a _different_ enemy’s territory. He couldn’t be responsible for the moral fabric of this Decepticon.

Although… strategically… maybe this could be beneficial. If Soundwave was serious, and Prowl thought he might be, then there might be a way to trust the tape-deck a little more. That would certainly take some pressure off of Prowl’s shoulders that he would just have one morally despicable Decepticon to worry about. 

But this was probably a trap-

“Incorrect: This is not a deception.”

“Okay.” Prowl started by pinching the bridge of his nose and closed his optics. “First of all, you can’t just read someone’s mind without their permission.”

“Correction: I _can_ read someone’s mind without-“

“No. No I mean you _should_ not read someone’s mind without their permission.”

Soundwave cocked his helm to the side. “That is… inefficient.”

Prowl put his hands on his hips. “Yes. Yes it is.”

Soundwave paused for a moment and then nodded, solemnly.

That’s when Prowl saw the energy blades come out of the darkness and start heading towards the back of the tape-deck. 

“Look OUT!” he said as he sprinted forward, throwing Soundwave out of the way. The effort had not given him much maneuverability, so the energy blades sliced right through his arms as he braced himself against the blows. He managed to grab one of the hands that had held a blade and hold it still, but the other hand was still attempting to stab him.

Soundwave came up from behind him and barreled into the Palaxian, throwing them into a set of old chairs and desks. Prowl was down on one knee catching his breath, as Soundwave put his frame between the Palaxian and the emblem.

The Palaxian rose and in a flash was at Prowl’s neck with the blade.

“Let me take the emblem.”

Soundwave had his beam rifle aimed at the Palaxian. The telepath didn’t move. The Palaxian moved his blade up closer to the Autobot’s throat. Prowl looked at Soundwave with optics and shook his head back and forth slowly, trying to will him to just shoot.

Soundwave sighed, then dropped the rifle, putting his hands up.

The Palaxian moved Prowl to position himself inside the goal, reaching out a hand.

**“THE CYBERTRONIANS HAVE TAKEN THE ENEMY EMBLEM.”**

The Palaxian shouted a curse in its native tongue and quickly grabbed the emblem, pushed Prowl to the side, and then ran down the stairs out of the base.

**“THE PALAXIANS HAVE TAKEN THE ENEMY EMBLEM.”**

Prowl felt the energon seeping out of his forearms where the blades had slashed. They stung like hell, but he could still move. Soundwave gave him a servo to help him up, and they both ran out of the building after the Palaxian.

“Apologies,” Soundwave said as they ran.

Prowl just sighed as he tried to staunch the bleeding with his servos. “It’s… fine, Soundwave. It seems that we are still in this fight though so it’s not a huge loss.”

“Amendment: Apologies for reading your mind without permission.”

Prowl scrunched up his faceplate in confusion. “You mean, back there? With the knives at my throat? I guarantee I was thinking you should just let me… I mean I wanted to you stop-“

“Incorrect: You were thinking about Autobot Jazz.”

Prowl opened his mouth to say something else, but then closed it. Nothing more needed to be said.

* * *

Jazz was racing along the streets in his alt-mode, avoiding debris and the shots of a sniper rifle behind him. After one particularly close call near his front right tire, he jumped the curb and swung down an alley and broke through the glass front of what looked like the lobby of an old hotel. He transformed into root and kept running through a door to a parking garage where he transformed again and kept booking it.

More shots rang out as he kept up-shifting, trying to get speed. By his estimations he was about 60 feet off the ground and needed some momentum to get away from the Palaxian trying to get the emblem back. A loud click behind him indicated that he had an incoming explosion coming in 3-2-1…

Just as he hit and smashed through the barrier of the side of the parking garage, a concussive blast propelled him out further, the heat singing his bumper.

He transformed again, rolling on the ground and started trying to book it back to his territory. Right as he crossed the middle territory line, he saw the Palaxian he had talked to earlier about 100 feet away with a gun trained on his helm. He also saw Prowl and Soundwave some ways behind, trying to sprint to catch up, but it didn’t look like they were going to make to him in time. He realized it was likely over at this point.

Right as he was about to try and dive out of the way, an unearthly shriek sounded from behind him and he felt the shadow of a seeker pass over him. The Palaxian saw the incoming threat and attempted to aim at him instead, but the jet was too fast. In his root mode, Starscream landed a clean kick to the Palaxian with damaged wings flared and arms out, like an turbohawk landing on prey. A very arrogant, self-congratulating hawk.

Jazz was only temporarily stunned, but then transformed and kept going as fast as he could towards their base. He passed a cackling seeker, stomping on the Palaxian and the gun. He then passed Prowl and Soundwave who started to provide cover fire to the other Palaxian who had made it down to street level and was now attempting to shoot Jazz again.

Jazz reached their base and jumped passed the goal-line.

**“THE CYBERTRONIANS HAVE WON THE MISSION. PREPARE FOR EXTRACTION.”**

Jazz was panting but gave a huge whoop to the empty room, before it was crawling with spindly androids coming to collect him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you need a visualization for Starscream there at the end? Lol here you go:[ art from Darkwizart that partly inspired that part of the scene ](https://64.media.tumblr.com/aecd283499883be96f2cd2d5f0a8939d/030bc106da81e2eb-6d/s1280x1920/bcc984d5f5493dc473b6d55a7446544be25914cb.png) lol.


	7. Chapter 7

When they woke, Artuz was between them and his was _radiating_ happiness.

“When I tell you how _spectacular_ that was, I’m not sure you will understand me! Simply marvelous, darlings!” His tentacled appendages wiggled in intensity. The four mechs were slowly coming to after being knocked out by the androids. They noticed their injuries had been repaired and that they had a bigger room now, with furniture in it, and possibly other rooms attached.

“Now for the recap; SS-22 wins points for first blood, and _no surprise there hehee_ , but you also were the most damaged of the mechs. But that desperate winged assault at the end to help block the Palaxian emblem-bearer was the talk of the water-cooler at the handler’s office, let me tell you!” The Quintesson made another noise of excited appreciation. 

Starscream felt involuntary words attempt to leave his vocalizer, but he didn’t trust them. He coughed to try and cover it up.

“And J-06! Clenching the victory as you did; brilliant _and_ flashy! Wonderfully done. The little _chat_ you had with the Palaxian wasn’t very _entertaining_ though, so cut the chatter next time.” Jazz inclined his head as if he hadn’t heard the chiding tone from the handler.

“SW-17, you were quite resourceful in your efforts! You managed to destroy one enemy but let another one walk out of your base with the emblem, even though you were armed. Tsk, tsk!”

“And P-09, you almost died twice it seems if not for SW-17, but the audience loved the danger shots we got from it.” Prowl clenched his denta but said nothing.

“Because of your victory, we upgraded your accommodations! Winners get more perks so. Keep. Winning!” Artuz said, practically crowing. “You will have the day to yourselves, but in [24 hours] will be your next mission. We will give you details then. Enjoy your well-earned time off!” With a flourish, Artuz glided out, humming to himself merrily.

Once the Quintesson left, they set about exploring their new quarters. There were actually four separate rooms: two berth rooms with two berths each, a shared room in the middle and a washroom. The berths were standard issue, but better than the floor. There were two couches, an energon dispenser, and a display screen that could be controlled by remote. Jazz had flicked it on to see it was all Quintesson shows. He frowned and just turned it back off.

Soundwave said nothing and went to one of the berth rooms, turning off the lights and sitting on the floor in the corner. Jazz and Prowl looked concerned, but Starscream paid them no mind and just closed the door to the room and went about exploring the washroom.

Suddenly alone, Jazz rounded on Prowl. “So, you almost died _twice_ ,” he said, perhaps a little more angrily than he had intended.

Prowl glared at Jazz. “Don’t,” he said tiredly. “I… wasn’t on my game.”

“ _Soundwave_ had to save you,” Jazz said throwing his servos up in exasperation. “ _Soundwave_!”

“Jazz, just stop. Just don’t,” Prowl replied, with pleading optics.

Jazz seemed undeterred. “Am I going to have to watch you at every turn? Can I trust you to take care of yourself?”

Prowl opened his mouth to reply, but changed his mind walking away to the other berth room and closing the door behind him.

Jazz stood there in the room, and nearly yelled in frustration, when he met the optics of Starscream leaning against the door frame to the washroom. The seeker arched an optic-ridge and had a smirk.

“That could have gone better, hmm?”

Jazz glowered but said nothing and sat down on the couch in a huff. He turned on the video display and reluctantly watching the Quintesson shows. Starscream was investigating the energon dispenser when he heard Jazz drop the remote.

The seeker looked up and saw the image of Prowl on the screen with a knife to his throat. It looked like a recap of the mission game they had just participated in. The screen replayed the moment just before where Prowl saved Soundwave by pushing him out of the way and taking hits himself instead. The seeker was more than a little impressed at the scene. Jazz had tensed when he saw what had happened and furtively looked to the closed door.

Starscream leaned over the back of the couch, a respectful distance away from the Autobot. “I’d go in after him if I were you,” he said lowly, with an indulgent smirk. 

“Forgive me for not taking relationship advice from _you_ ,” Jazz replied.

Starscream gave a scoff. “You _wound me_ , Autobot. I’m just trying to keep the _team_ together.” He had a smirk on his faceplate. “Well if you aren’t going to go fix your lover’s squabble, mind telling me what you and the Palaxian talked about?” Starscream had remembered the warning of the Quintesson earlier, and curiosity got the better of him.

Jazz just stood, and muttered, “Later,” as he walked into the washroom and closed the door.

Starscream was alone in the room now and sighed. This was a first; everyone else was off being emotional and immature and here he was, totally fine. More or less. He sat down on the couch, picking up the remote and fiddling with the buttons, able to control the lights in the room and dimming them from the oppressively bright white to a lower setting.

He glanced back to the display and it was a bunch of scenes of him flying around the arena and the acrobatic stunts he had pulled. He watched with no small amount of pride, and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he watched. The cameras had done him quite a few favors it seemed. A commentator was doing a voiceover, complimenting his performance.

“And here, you can see SS-22 able to expertly avoid a homing missile by turning it back on his enemy! Quite an interesting turn of events, right Narrata?”

“Oh, quite interesting, Reporatus! It makes you wonder how much _better_ he would fly if he was being piloted by a Quintesson like he was created for!”

Starscream stopped breathing.

“His cockpit looks like it could still hold a Quintesson comfortably, perhaps it is something we could test out at the next inspection-“

Starscream had thrown the remote so forcefully at the display that it cracked. The sound broke, and the display flickered.

Jazz opened the door and saw the damage “What the frag?!“

Starscream curved his mouth into a forced smile and stood. “Nothing good on,” he said thickly, walking into the berth room where Soundwave was. Jazz looked after him and was about to say something when the jet closed the door. 

The seeker turned in the dark room and saw that the telepath was still sleeping. Starscream let his smile drop and as he crawled into a berth, turning towards the wall and holding his arms across his golden glass cockpit. He waited for recharge to take him as he gave an involuntary shiver.  
  


* * *

Eventually Jazz worked up the courage to go in the other berth room after Prowl. He walked in and noticed the Praxian was recharging softly in the dark room.

Jazz had spoken out of turn, and that was unlike him. He was usually a calm, go-with-the-flow kind of mech to Prowl’s hot-headed dedication to rules and the Autobot cause. Jazz had been immediately smitten. Prowl had taken some convincing. They had made a great team together, equal in skill and dedication to the Autobot cause, and their relationship had blossomed as well.

But the footage told a different story, where they were not equal, and Prowl was clearly the better of the two of them. He had thrown himself in front of an attack for an enemy-turned-ally, and Jazz had left Starscream defenseless and wounded on top of a building. Jazz had always believed that Prowl was going to have difficulty trusting the Decepticons, but it turned out he was behaving like a better ally than Jazz was.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and his spark soared despite his mood. He reached up and grabbed it in his own, bringing it to his lips. “I’m so sorry,” he said after a moment. He felt movement behind him and then felt Prowl reach around to embrace him from behind.

“It’s okay, you were just being an aft,” Prowl said into his audios, rubbing his cheekplate on his. “Nothing exactly abnormal.” 

They sat there for a few more moments, as their venting synced. Eventually, Jazz crawled into the berth, tightly winding around Prowl despite his protestations that the berth was too small. He held Prowl to him and slowly drifted to recharge.


	8. Chapter 8

The door opened the next day and Artuz greeted them warmly. He was met with tired, glowering eyes from the entire Cybertronian team. He took a minute to compose himself and tried again.

“I said, good _morning!”_ he tried again. SS-22 just crossed his arms in front of his cockpit. No one else said anything or moved. Fine! Sour-sparks.

“I have your new mission, dear ones. You will be competing in a race- a _death race!_ Oh it will be so much fun.” There wasn't any of the expected excitement, but Artuz was undeterred.

“What happens if we refuse?” J-06 said. His blue visor had flashed as if the Cybertronian was angry. _Why_ would he be angry?! They had brand new quarters and they had one the last mission handily- clearly they were just ungrateful-

Artuz noticed the broken display and frowned under his mask. _Very ungrateful children!_ But upon reflection, that had to be why they were so upset. They had lost their entertainment! Poor little sparks. Artuz decided to be gentle with the dears.

“You can’t refuse, J-06. Refusal will result in termination.” He paused for a moment then continued. “You are getting a lot of attention you know,” he said. “Finding some great specimens of Cybertronians to compete was not easy, and we _have_ been looking for quite some time. And you have a _real_ chance here! You would be granted rewards beyond your wildest dreams, and your freedom!

“But if you chose to be obstinate, we can terminate you and find someone else.”

The four of them looked down at this, looking properly contrite for a moment. The Quintesson smirked under his mask. It was so wonderful having transformers around again. 

“The rules are simple, yet again. You will be participating in a death race; meaning you four will be in a relay race and armed with weapons. Your goal is to cross the finish line first, by any means necessary. Oh! And your transformation-cogs will be disabled.”

“ _What-“_ came the resounding chorus from everyone other than SW-17. He just constantly looked like he had a rod stuffed up his actuator.

“Yes, you will be bound to root-mode. It will make things even for the rest of the combatants. Ah, here are the androids to escort you to the mission grounds. Good luck!”

Artuz disappeared as the androids met them and escorted them down some white, plain hallways to a tram which took them directly to their next arena.

“I’m not _designed_ for running in root,” Starscream complained as they waited in tram.

“You will have to do the best you can,” Prowl replied, tiredly. He was trying to look around at his surroundings, hoping to see anything that might help them later. But the hallways had all looked similar and were empty other than them and the tram lacked windows.

“My thrusters will be smarting for _days_ ,” Starscream whined. “A grounder wouldn’t understand-“

“Starscream: cease vocalizations,” came the monotone. Starscream gave a scoff and a wounded look to Soundwave. 

“Even _Megatron_ knew not to make his fliers-“

Soundwave turned and grabbed Starscream by the chassis, pulling him close. “Megatron is not here to protect you.” His monotone was angry, almost shaking with fury. The androids that accompanied them seemed agitated but did not interfere. Jazz and Prowl both moved towards them, trying to separate the two of them.

Starscream’s optics had narrowed. “Is that what you think he does?” 

Soundwave’s visor flashed as he said nothing. He then released the seeker roughly then turned his attention to the other two. “Starscream: run first. The other 3 of us can try and catch up the other 3 distances.” They started walking again.

Prowl disagreed. “I believe Jazz is the fastest on the ground followed by me, then you, then Starscream. It will be easier to keep the lead than try and catch up the entire match. We want Jazz to go last, so Starscream can either go second or third.”

Starscream groused that they were all making decisions for him again. But _apparently,_ he didn’t have any allies here anymore, he thought pointedly at Soundwave's back.

Jazz nodded. “Starscream, do you want to go second or third? Get it over with maybe?”

Starscream was surprised and bit the inside of his cheekplate. “Third,” he said quietly. “At the very least I am a somewhat capable warrior, so I can try and stop anyone else from having a full lead so that Jazz can run the last sprint unchallenged.”

Jazz nodded. “So Prowl, Soundwave, Starscream then myself. We got this in the bag, mechs!” Prowl’s mouth twitched at Jazz's exuberance, almost going into a smile.

But when they reached the arena, they realized they did not in fact “have this in the bag.”

What lay before them was a series of death-defying obstacle courses, with several creatures holding weapons and milling about at the starting line. It was not a flat-easy course like the relay races that Prowl had been expecting. It was more like the human show "Ninja Warrior" that Sunstreaker and Sideswipe had loved so much.

As the Cybertronians were led to the field, the androids snapped black collars around their necks and forced them to their knees. Soundwave moved as if he was going to get up only to be shocked at his neck, forcing him to his knees again.

Some Quintessons of various shape and size lofted near them, tittering in laughter as they moved around the four, clearing inspecting them. A feminine voice laughed the loudest, as the owner made a point to touch Starscream’s wing. He flinched, but the collar had held him still.

“We will see you at the inspection,” the sing-song voice called, as they glided away, laughing merrily. Starscream clenched his fanged denta but said nothing.

Eventually, the collars allowed them to stand and their android guards walked away. They saw signs telling them where to go for what order in the race they would be in, and they were quickly being ushered to move and separate. Jazz gave Prowl's servo a squeeze as they left. Prowl smiled to his comrades as they walked to trams that would escort them away to their starting positions. Suddenly alone, Prowl felt exposed.

He noticed he was gaining attention. Apparently, none of the other alien species there had collars like him, and he heard whispers of “Cybertronian” and “Transformer” bounce around him. He jutted his jaw forward, not willing to be rattled by the throng of rivals he was now going up against.

“Don’t pay them any mind,” came a voice next to him. To his surprise, it was a small, human-sized organic creature. She had four eyes and a smile full of fanged teeth, but otherwise she looked quite human and friendly. “They aren’t convinced that you don’t have an unfair advantage since you can turn into a vehicle.”

Prowl smirked. “Well I believe these collars are meant to combat that,” he said, not minding her friendliness. Considering the last few alien combatants he had run into were trying to kill him, it was nice to talk to someone who was moderately friendly.

She smiled all fangs. “You might want to pick a weapon soon; the good ones are going fast.”

Prowl turned and saw a line of weapons leaning up against the wall. Most of them were close-quarters weapons, and he noticed there were not any guns or blasters this time. He opted for a set of energy katanas, figuring that they could help defend him as he tried to get things as fast as possible. He went back to the starting line to see the little organic femme watching him carefully. “First time?” she said.

“Yes,” he replied. “Is it that obvious?”

She smirked. "Only because your eyes are huge and confused," she said. “There are about 40 of us in each relay. You want to try and be in the top five; statistically if you aren’t, you can’t catch up. You will be able to watch the rest of the match after your leg is done. The hardest part is just surviving your leg,” she said. 

“I see,” he said looking around at the other mechs around him. “Less of a race and more of a free-for-all then.”

The little femme chuckled, nodding. “Name’s Piri. I’ll look out for you.”

“I’m Prowl. I will do the same, Piri.”

A large screen appeared in the ceiling, giving a 30 second countdown. Piri saw it and beckoned him with her hand. “We will want to be a little farther from the others.” She walked away from the main group of participants, finding the edges much less populated. Prowl followed, looking at the first obstacle. Seemed like poles rising above an open pit.

“Now, I know that you don’t have much reason to trust me,” she said quietly to him. “But when the buzzer goes off, just count to 10 internally before you move. To get across those poles you are going to want to _not_ be the first in there.”

Prowl was skeptical but was willing to observe and watch if that is what it took.

The buzzer sounded, and he understood immediately. 

“And… they’re off! Buzzer sounded and the carnage has begun!” Reporatus announced quickly and animatedly. “Seems a Palaxian was the first to draw blood this time, but WOW was it brutal! Doing okay over there, Narrata?”

“Of _course_ , Reporatus! Can’t get rid of me that easily!” The femme looked like she was going to vomit based on puce color of her tentacles, but she seemed determined. Damned femme. “Seems the Death Race is off to a great start with the toll already up to five, and no one has reached the first obstacle yet.”

“I know you are _all_ wondering about our guests, so let’s take a quick look. Seems we have the former enforcer P-09 out for the first leg. And… it appears he paused once the buzzer went off! Interesting strategy!”

“Ah, but it looks like it was a good move. The first participants that survived the initial bloodbath have reached the first obstacle and have started across the poles, and OH, that has _got_ to hurt!” Narrata winced. “The Sharkicons have made short work of the first runners, jumping out of the acid lake below. It might take a moment for more to brave across!”

Reporatus laughed. “Oh _wow_ that is brutal, Narrata! There is just so much- _oh wow,_ okay, well they definitely upped the difficulty on this obstacle from last time, didn’t they? I can’t imagine that they realized this would take out over half of the participants-“

“But there he goes! P-09 and a little Yterian, oh what is her designation? No matter. P-09 and the Yterian are running up the sides, using the carnage of a distraction, and a few others including the favorite to win this leg, YHSJFSSA-020. Seems they got across the first obstacle without issue. Certainly a low amount of participants making it across to the second one this time.”

“And on that note, let’s hear a word from our sponsors.”

* * *

Soundwave watched on the screen above, listening to the voices of the annoying announcers as they excitedly narrated every violent point of the race in lurid detail. Now some kind of commercial played, advertising a toy for Quintesson children. If he didn’t need the information they were providing, he would have turned off his audios.

Prowl had made an ally it seemed, and Soundwave liked the idea in theory. It did look like Prowl and the Yterian (apparently) were going to be some of the first to reach the finish the first leg once they got past the second obstacle: a set of spiked balls sweeping across a narrow bridge. Being hit by one would definitely spell certain death given their speed and sharpness. 

Soundwave could tell that Prowl had activated his battle computer to help with timing. It was subtle, but Soundwave was a keen observer of the Autobots and had taken plenty of footage to know how to the mech worked. He had steadied the Yterian from going too far ahead and aided her from wobbling too much. Soundwave found it kind of odd, as the relationship looked like it was only benefiting one side. Still, he had decided to try and take Prowl’s lead on these things.

He found the Yterian’s teammate. He was a short organic thing, eagerly watching the screen above, nervousness pouring through his body. He saw Soundwave and looked defensive before doing a doubletake.

“Are you… his friend?” the Yterian asked with giant eyes.

Soundwave felt a stab of pain in his spark chamber. A memory came though his processor; unwanted and not helpful. The Yterian was the same blasted height and Rumble and Frenzy. Not able to speak, he nodded.

“Do you… want to work together… too?”

Again, he nodded emphatically. “Soundwave: protect Yterian.”

“I’m Aran, nice to meet you, Soundwave. You are going to want to grab a shield,” he said smiling with many, many rows of teeth. Soundwave was instantly charmed.

Just as he was picking up a shield, the announcers were excitedly shouting about a final showdown happening on the screen. It appeared Prowl, YHSJFSSA-020, and the Yterian femme had made it past the final obstacle with a giant lead, but YHSJFSSA-020 had attacked them and was currently trying to hurt the little femme. He had gotten in some good stabs on her and she was bleeding, but Prowl did not leave her side. 

Prowl did a desperate dash and slid into YHSJFSSA-020, pulling his katanas across the side of the creature. He then scooped up the Yterian and was running towards the line and sped up when he saw Soundwave and Aran ready to go. 

Soundwave readied his stance, ready to start running as soon as they crossed the finish line. Prowl threw himself across the finish line, panting while cradling his tiny organic friend in his arms. Soundwave nodded and took off running with Aran keeping up beside him.

Soundwave felt good. Doing something other than thinking about the pain pulsing deep beside his spark was doing him wonders. Running with this tiny organic thing felt like an echo of battles on Earth, and though Aran was not a cassette, he was close enough for right now.

Aran guided Soundwave through the obstacles, gently correcting him when he was about to do something that would ruin their chances. Their lead was immense as they worked together to climb up a giant wall and then their final obstacle was a large pit they had to cross on a very thin pole that sloped downward slightly to the other side.

The end of their leg and then next participants were right there waiting for them across the pit. Soundwave made optic contact with Starscream who was yelling something at him with some panic on his faceplate. The seeker then snarled and shoved some of the combatants next to him who shoved him back and were clearly lobbing invectives in the seeker’s face, met with shrill yelling of his own. Soundwave tried to make out what was happening but found he could not.

Aran led him to walk across the pole and they tried to make their way across a deep pit filled with molten slag that was bubbling with noxious fumes. Soundwave closed his vents and noticed his tiny ally wavering a little before covering its own mouth.

The first spear that was thrown at them missed. Soundwave’s helm snapped up and saw the combatants across the finish line taking aim to throw more spears, and Starscream was doing his best to make them miss. The seeker then turned to an official looking Quintesson on an observation tower, gesticulating wildly, but he only received a tentacled shrug. A few more spears were thrown and one managed to graze Aran’s side. Soundwave could not even feel a spark beat before the organic fell off the pole and started falling into the pit below.

He felt the pain of the broken bonds all over again. Emptiness shouting at him from the void, reminding him what it was to feel mortal and broken and _small_. 

Soundwave dove after him.

He wordlessly dove after the organic, opening his chest panel to place the wounded Yterian inside his chest cavity. He left it open slightly at the top so that the little broken thing would be protected but not crushed. In the same instant he twisted and threw his shield over the pole, grabbing the other side as he now dangled below, holding onto the sides like it was a zipline. Since it tilted downward, it only took a little bit of movement for them to start sliding towards the other side, now protected up top from spears.

He could hear Starscream now calling him all kinds of stupid, but he thought he heard the small hint of a smile in the vocalizations. They reached the end, and he was able to pull himself up and make it across the finish line. Starscream took off without a second look, followed shortly behind by another Yterian.


	9. Chapter 9

Starscream was running as fast as he could, but he knew he couldn’t hold a sprint for long. His thruster-pedes were yelling at him to transform and take off already, but he ignored the rapid strain he was starting to feel as he approached the first obstacle. 

His obstacle was a giant… beast. Starscream felt like behemoth was likely too elegant a word for it.

It was almost as big as a combiner. Six arms, four legs, a snout, teeth, hair _everywhere_. More bovine than canine, but it was still terrifying. It glared at him and gave a throaty cry as it made for him. The seeker pulled out his large sword he had grabbed and dove out of the way of grabby hands that were attempting to pick him up. The little Yterian beside him looked to him, seeking comfort or help like its comrades had apparently received from his transformer brethren. The seeker merely shrugged.

“Yeah... you’re not going in my cockpit.”

Starscream rolled out of the way of another onslaught of hands reached for him. He ran to the other side of the field when he felt a hard strike to his side that slammed him into a wall. Apparently, a hand that he had missed.

His helm hurt the most, but he felt the impact from being swatted like an insecticon throughout his whole frame. He groaned but was able to move quickly, knowing that the creature would be on him in a matter of seconds. He noticed the Yterian was waving its arms and pointing at him and pointing at the exposed ankles.

Starscream understood. The creature was likely top heavy and striking it in the ankles would make it likely come down. He gave a quick “thumbs up” sign. Then ran in the opposite direction for the end of the obstacle’s field, abandoning the Yterian and the monster behind him. “Give it a try,” he yelled over his shoulder.

The Yterian threw its arms up in frustration and managed to avoid being smushed himself as he was able to escape through the legs of the creature. By that time, other participants had reached the obstacle, so its attention was distracted.

Eventually the Yterian caught up with Starscream who was looking at the next obstacle in front of them, trying to figure something out. “Thanks for your help,” he said, trying to catch his breath.

“Sorry little one. Not really here to make _friends_ ,” he said squinting as he kept his optics trained ahead of him. 

Before them stretched a giant labyrinth with lots of twists, turns, and dead ends.

“Name’s Pran, by the way. I already know you are Starscream.”

The seeker seemed surprised. “While I’m flattered that you have heard of me, I can’t imagine why.”

Pran also was studying the labyrinth before them. Giant blue walls that stretched over 300 ft tall (91.4 m) towered over them. To reach the entrance they would have to go down a small hill, so where they stood at the moment, they could see the beginning of the route they should take to get through. “You have your own segment in the news, didn’t you know?”

Starscream was startled and looked down at Pran. “…what?”

“Yeah it’s like a show dedicated to you. They show footage of you constantly. Tons of speculation into your background and your likes and wants and all that.”

Starscream’s optics were wide as he swallowed. Of course, _why wouldn’t_ there be such obsession with him. He was practically Primus’s gift to the fragging cosmos. But… given what he had watched last night, he wasn’t sure the obsession was a healthy one. He thought it had been just a one-night thing, but clearly this was a nightly recurrence. He turned back to the labyrinth. “Is this… normal? For the games?”

Pran shrugged. “They usually obsess on the shows over the ones they want to retire.”

“…retire?”

Pran turned his head. “We need to get moving,” he said noticing the rising shouts from behind him. He started to run towards the entrance.

Starscream was about to protest but had to rush to keep up. The little one was fast.

They moved quickly through the labyrinth, only finding a few dead ends as they went. Very soon they heard the sounds of fighting and other voices telling them that they were rapidly losing their lead.

“What exactly does ’retire’ _mean_?” Starscream asked as they jogged to get to the next set of turns.

Pran frowned. “Well you want to go home, right? That’s usually how it works with guests.”

“…Yes?”

“Well if they retire you, you get a special status here, usually like a house or something and get to attend parties. And you don’t ever return home.”

Starscream frowned, not liking the sound of that at all. It vaguely reminded him of the gladiators from the Golden Era who were lauded with praise and honor, and then separated from everyone and everything they knew as a reward. It made sense where that idea had come from now.

He winced and slowed down. “Sorry little one, I need a moment,” he said as he leaned against the wall with his servo, trying to remove the pressure from his pedes. They were badly bent out of shape, and their delicate mechanisms were dented to the Pit. Pran looked at them with some pity.

“You aren’t really good for this race, are you?”

Starscream groused. “Put me in the sky, and I’m faster than you could even _think_ those words,” he said.

“Hmm. Too bad this is on the ground then.”

Starscream was so focused on the pain in his pedes that he didn’t notice the knife being stabbed into his servo with much more force than should have been physically possible from the tiny organic. Starscream shrieked in pain, trying to pull the knife out, but it held fast to the wall. Energon seeped out and dripped onto the ground as he scraped and pulled.

“You keep making all that noise and they’ll catch up to you,” Pran said, softly padding away as he ran ahead. “Sorry, gotta go. Not really here to make _friends,”_ the organic said over his shoulder before turning a corner and disappearing.

Starscream snarled and attempted to pull his servo away, even though the pain was horrible. With a whimper, he slowly began to realize he could not get enough leverage to pull it away. He sighed and then pulled out his sword from his back, trying not to think about what he was about to do, but instead about what he wanted to do to Pran when he caught up.

* * *

“Hmm, we are checking the cameras but we have not been able to find SS-22 and the Yterian for some time. Wonder if they got caught by some combatants and were brutally murdered?”

“Reporatus, you rogue, those are possibly spoilers!” Narrata said, playfully slapping him with a tentacle. “But while we are waiting, why don’t we talk about SW-17’s great performance in the last leg?”

“Keeping a lead already set for you is hardly something to _brag_ about.”

“True, but I feel like there is a hidden depth to this Cybertronian. He’s apparently the oldest of the team of transformers-“

“And we will be right back after the next commercial break.”

Narrata blanched at the cut-off as the live-feed went dead. She turned slowly to Reporatus who had a make-up artist lightly applying a matte powder to his mask. Apparently, it was too shiny for the cameras.

“What the frag, Rep?”

Reporatus sighed as he shooed away the brush on his face. “Didn’t you read the official propaganda line this morning? SW-17 is _persona non grata_. Don’t try and establish an audience for him.”

Narrata quickly pulled out her datapad and read over it. No she _hadn’t_ read the propaganda lines this morning, she was too busy trying to figure out a way to get Reporatus fired so that _she_ could be the lead anchor. But now that she was skimming over it, she realized how closely she had walked to the edge of being fired herself.

“Doesn’t say why though,” she said, a tentacle on her chin in thought.

“I think they are going to pull him for a trial.”

“Ugh,” Narrata said shaking her head. “How boring! He’s much better in the games. Plus, he’s the only Decepticon support SS-22 has.”

“Yeah well some ‘support’ he’s giving. They don’t like how he’s been treating SS-22. They can’t make the story work for the development segments. Also, they are worried that SS-22 is going to break early.”

She put the datapad down. “Maybe we should try to do an interview with Artuz. See if he has any additional insight that can help with us with reporting.”

Reporatus smiled under his mask. “Knew we kept you around for a reason,” he said.

She was about to say something else when a camera drone found SS-22. Both Reporatus and Narrata went slack-jawed under their masks as they saw Starscream pull back his sword to chop off his own servo.

“HOLY-"

* * *

“Frag,” said Prowl under his breath. He and Soundwave were seated next to each other on the tram with a display showing them what was happening. Prowl grimaced as he watched the two blows it took for the seeker to cut his servo off at the wrist. 

“Did we get-“

“Taken advantage of? Maybe,” Soundwave replied. “Starscream: not easy to work with even under most favorable circumstances.”

Prowl watched the screen as Starscream’s anguish was the subject of multiple camera angles as he was able to pull free of the wall and leave his blue servo that was still under the knife. Energon sloughed out of the wound and he swayed on his pedes but he was able to start walking again.

“You really don’t like him, do you?” Prowl said with an edge to his vocalizer. 

Soundwave said nothing in reply.

* * *

Jazz was watching the screen carefully. The last Yterian teammate had been chatting him up a few minutes ago, but as soon as the cameras couldn’t find Starscream and Pran, she had slinked away saying she was looking for a different weapon. 

Seemed that Starscream had to learn the lesson for them. Trust no one here.

It made sense in a big event like this race. You don’t have to rely fully on strength or speed if you can take advantage of some other team’s good graces and battle ability. They probably had a big target on their backs since everyone knew they were guests. It seemed Starscream wasn’t being as accommodating as Soundwave and Prowl had been, or maybe just not as useful. Jazz figured he might have found himself in a similar situation with the last Yterian had they not taken the opportunity to try and take Starscream out first.

He felt a bitter, metallic taste in his mouth. He had always been a cynic deep in his spark, just lately it had been more floating up to the surface and poisoning everything. Something told him that being an Autobot here was going to be the biggest disadvantage they could possibly have.

The Yterian that had been working with Starscream was in the final stretch of the labyrinth according to the reporters on the display in the sky. He lightly padded out, not really in a rush. He was smiling with multiple rows of teeth and his chin out as he practically strutted. Jazz noticed the other Yterian yelling and waving her arms frantically, a slight panic creeping into her voice. Pran didn’t seem to notice, just was showboating and bowing as more yells and jeers came from the watching combatants behind the line.

Finally, Pran heard the words “behind you” and “watch out.” He glanced over his shoulder to see a murderous Starscream running up, closing the distance between them and bleeding energon all over the ground in his wake. With fear spurning his step, Pran dashed and made it across the finish line where his teammate took off running with a dash.

Pran laughed as he caught his breath, only to be stabbed through the chest by a thrown sword.

The seeker was panting with his arm outstretched, having fallen to his knees to steady himself for the throw. He locked pained optics with Jazz. The saboteur gave him a reluctant smirk. Starscream chuckled and then pulled himself to his swaying pedes and closed the distance between them, falling across the finish line. 

Jazz wasted no time in trying to catch up to the fragging Yterian.

Pran was shrieking as the sword was still lodged in his chest, and Starscream smiled at the sound.

* * *

Jazz ran as fast as he could, but he was always a few steps behind the Yterian who also seemed to be the fastest of their team. He noticed that he did have a few other runners closing the distance behind him, so he tried to pick up the pace.

Their first obstacles were a set of solid hurdle walls that ran down a narrow path so you could not avoid them. The walls varied in size, shape, and material ranging from solid steel to walls of ice and fire. Jazz was able to acrobatically jump and glide over the hurdles as if he was born for it. Usually he had to fall into a tumble as he cleared the hurdles, but he was able to keep his momentum.

The Yterian was struggling, likely because of her size. Jazz caught up to her and passed her, hearing her shriek at his proximity and then again in anger that she was being overtaken. Jazz chose not to engage her but gave her a withering look as he cleared the hurdle and dashed ahead.

He realized now that being at the front of the pack in the final leg maybe wasn’t the best strategy. As he cleared hurdles over the top, he heard the sound of shouts and then saw projectiles just barely miss him. One well-thrown energy blade had managed to graze his cheekplate, but at that point he had cleared the obstacle and only had one left.

The last obstacle came before him, and it was a multi-rigged canopy over top a pit of spikes. There were bars and ropes and poles that he could use to get across, but this was going to require a lot of upper-frame strength, which wasn’t his favorite. He sighed and his blue visor flashed as he jumped into the air, grabbing some rigging and started to make his way across. 

He had a pair of energy blades as his weapons of choice, choosing to take one out now and disable the rigging as he went. The participants behind him would have trouble taking the same route as he did. He felt more projectiles being thrown at him, barely missing. He jumped to a pole that was suspended from the canopy and wrapped his legs around it as he pulled his energy knives, ready to strike should someone get close.

* * *

“Seems we are down to the wire, aren’t we Reporatus?” Narrata said, eagerly leaning forward in her chair. “It’s all down to these last few moments!”

“It seems that while J-06 was getting into position to defend his lead, he missed the little Yterian girl coming up behind him and deftly passing him!”

“And a few more surprises, there are other combatants rapidly gaining on them too. Seems the Yterian is mad about her comrade whom SS-22 injured in the last leg. She’s giving J-06 a piece of her mind and he’s… wow _that’s_ a rude gesture, giving our censors a run for their money! No they seem to be going at it, her teeth against his blades…”

“Seems she is going for a desperate attack, but will it work?!” Reporatus said, his voice rising an octave.

“NOOOOO it will not!”

“Oh wow, did anyone order skewered Yterian, rare? Hahaha.”

“Yeah we need a close up of that! Seems like she got a little greedy. Wait what is J-06 doing? Is he… sad?” Narrata almost sounded disgusted.

“He’s just looking at her body… honestly he’s got this in the bag, what is he doing… oh okay there he goes. Phew! Thought he was going to throw the game!”

“And the Cybertronians win again! Second win in a row, folks, perfectly executed and well worth the wait. Stay tuned for tonight’s recap show. Until next time, I’m Narrata!”

“And I’m Reporatus and this is _The Games Commentary_ _!_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all were so suspicious lol, I love it. You all crack me up <3 Thanks for comments, I love talking to you! I'm REALLY excited for the next chapter coming to you in a few days. I know you all will like it.
> 
> Question for non-US readers- do you care about the unit conversions I include (ft to m or otherwise)? I'm trying to make it easy for you to read quickly, but it might actually be undermining the flow of the story. Let me know if you appreciate it or don't really care. And any other comments, questions- I love hearing from you.


	10. Chapter 10

Artuz strode into the tram where the Cybertronians were. J-06 had just been returned after his victory looking smug as ever, with P-09 was tutting over the cut in the cheekplate. SW-17 was attempting to help SS-22 stop the bleeding from his missing servo, but the seeker was not behaving.

Artuz empathized. Dealing with a misbehaving seeker was annoying. While not strictly forbidden, killing a combatant after they had already completed the leg was somewhat frowned upon. He was afraid that the team or even SS-22 would face retribution or punishment of some kind, but the word never came. Reactions to the kill had been positive.

“Well, another job well-done, my sparklings,” he said with warmth. They all looked a little disturbed. “Oh I know you aren’t sparkings anymore, but I just can’t help but feel like we have a special connection!” There was a silence. Surely, they were just so overwhelmed with emotion that they couldn’t reply correctly. He would forgive them. “Things are really starting to shape up for you, you know! You will be so excited about your reward.”

“More rooms?” J-06 snarked.

Artuz affixed him with a glare through his mask. “ _No_ , actually. You will be given a 5-minute voice call to anyone you want in the known universe.”

They all perked up immediately. The poor things! They must be socially deprived. He would have to talk to his sponsors about arranging more social interactions. 

“Anyone, Master?” came the strained voice of SS-22. 

Artuz nodded emphatically. “You will all have a chance to have conversations with whomever you wish, you just need to tell us who you want to talk to, and we’ll connect it.” They seemed to all share looks of hope. “Your reward will be tomorrow so that you have time to think about what you want to say.

“But first, you need medical attention! We need to get you all fixed up before your inspection,” Artuz said. That soured all of their moods, of course. SS-22 went catatonic.

“Dear, are you alright?” he said with some concern.

“…please master, not an inspection. I-I am… gravely injured…” he said, and his single servo surreptitiously went to his cockpit.

It seemed the others didn’t notice or were just irritated by his whining, but Artuz understood. “We will get you some extra sedative,” he said, hoping his kindness was not wasted.

He glided out of the room as repair androids took his place.

* * *

They were slowly returned to the room, one-by-one, starting with Jazz, then Soundwave, then Prowl. They felt groggy from the sedative they had been given by the androids, and some of their repairs itched from their newness, but otherwise they were unharmed.

They had been sent to individual rooms this time for inspection which was new. It had unnerved them, but it was more of the same. More leering glances from behind masks, more touching, comments about their performance, musings about their future escapades. Jazz idly thought it was like the same kind of inspections that the humans did before a horse race.

It took a few moments for them to realize Starscream had yet to return. Jazz, Soundwave, then Prowl decided to use the washroom to try and peel the feeling of tentacles across their armor. Eventually, Soundwave retired to the berth room, leaving Jazz to watch the display of stupid Quintesson shows.

It took another cycle, but then the door opened again. The androids dropped Starscream in a heap of wings, and then also curiously deposited a crate inside their quarters and left.

Starscream did not look up as he cradled his cockpit on the ground. Jazz furrowed his brow at his behavior and was about to speak when the seeker began to stir. Without looking at Jazz, he reached an arm over and opened the crate, grabbed a bottle from inside and walked towards the washroom. He was slumped as he walked, and he made no indication that he knew Jazz was staring at him oddly.

He opened the washroom to a protesting Prowl who was drying off. Starscream roughly pushed the Praxian out who squawked in indignation, but Starscream had slammed the door behind him.

Curiosity got the better of Jazz and he looked in the crate. Sure enough, there were 11 bottles of expensive high-grade from golden-age Cybertron. He whistled as he inspected the bottles and then noticed a note tucked inside the box.

“To Starscream: From your loving sponsors,” Jazz read aloud. “Seems Starscream has a fan club.”

Prowl also inspected the bottles. “That might do us a favor,” he said, water still glistening from his joints. “Artuz said that popularity would benefit us in the long run.”

Soundwave came out of the berth room and looked at the bottles and then looked to the washroom.

Prowl noticed. “You think… he’s okay? They were all over him at the last inspection. He seemed more freaked out about the idea this time.”

Soundwave paused a moment longer before stomping to the washroom and kicking the door open. Prowl followed, curious.

“Starscream: leave the bottle,” Soundwave commanded.

Prowl peaked around the corner and saw Starscream sitting in the bath/shower combination, letting water just soak around him as he eagerly drank down the high-grade. Starscream saw Soundwave and attempted to drink faster.

Soundwave huffed his vents and walked into the washroom and then reached for the bottle which Starscream pulled into an embrace and looked at him pathetically. It was clear he was already starting to get drunk.

“Get your own!” the seeker cried, pushing away Soundwave’s servos. Finally, Soundwave got a hold of the bottle and yanked it out of the arms of the seeker and stormed off.

Prowl saw the Seeker go from indignant to crumpled in a matter of seconds. He quietly closed the door to leave him alone.

“Why did you take it from him? Primus knows we all need it,” Jazz said as Soundwave put the bottle next to the energon dispenser. There was hardly any left.

“Starscream: Forbidden from drinking high-grade. Megatron’s orders.”

Prowl wrinkled his noseplate. “Why?”

Soundwave looked to the crate and then back to them. “Starscream: Makes irrational decisions if he is over-energized. Megatron forbids him from drinking high-grade.”

Jazz shrugged, but Prowl still seemed unhappy with the explanation. He was about to say more when Soundwave strode back into the berth room and closed the door.

* * *

It had been at least three cycles, and Starscream still hadn’t emerged from the washroom. Prowl knocked at the door to the washroom, but no response greeted him. He figured it was about as much as he was going to get.

He slowly opened the door to see Starscream hunched over, slowly cupping water (somewhat unsuccessfully) and pouring it into his open cockpit of all things. That was… odd.

“You’re hogging the washroom,” Prowl said.

Starscream didn’t look up, just kept cupping his servos and pouring water. His optics looked distant.

“Hey, you do eventually have to get out,” Prowl said moving into the room. “You’re going to rust.” Starscream just turned on the faucet again and cupped more water.

Prowl stood over him. “Hey. Can you even hear me?”

Eventually Starscream did look up. Prowl felt his intakes hitch when he saw the pain in his red optics. Prowl was concerned. He had figured that the Quintessons had kept him longer for a reason, and none of the possible answers were any good.

Starscream had stopped cupping the water and placed a servo splayed on his cockpit as his optics welled with some cleaning fluid. “No one told me-” he said, quietly, painfully.

Prowl confusedly looked to his cockpit and then back to the grimace Starscream had. Then he realized what had happened. 

He sank to his knees and pulled the seeker into an embrace. Water splashed on the floor, and Starscream was surprised at first but then just kind of melted into it, leaning his helm against the Praxian.

Prowl sighed. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I… suppose I hadn’t put it together either. I wasn’t thinking about it.” He felt Starscream sob against him, and he just felt terrible.

Most of the transformers had been made as vehicles specifically so that the Quintessons could use them for transport, domestic trade, or military uses. Seekers had the unique honor of being created for all of the reasons, becoming one of the favorite methods of transport for the Quintessons, because their cockpits were not affected during their transformation sequence.

Prowl could only imagine what it would be like to feel the creatures crawling around inside his chassis, knowing that he could not deny them or stop them as they touched him with their uncaring tentacled appendages. 

“It was like I was a fragging _amusement_ ride,” he said. “They all just wanted to crawl around inside there like it was the good old days,” he said as his helm fell a little more. “They… were wiggling around, touching me, and touching _controls that I didn’t know were in there_ ,” he said quietly. “I had no control over myself…”

Prowl understood that feeling. The Praxian held him for a few more kliks and then let him go. “What do you need?”

Starscream hiccuped. “I need more solvent,” he said pathetically.

Prowl looked around and found some in a cabinet under the wash basin. He handed it to Starscream who poured more of onto his chassis and torso. Prowl tilted the shower head and turned it on low, so that Starscream could wash that way rather than pathetically try and cup water to clean off the solvent.

Prowl sighed. For the first time ever, he saw Starscream as just a frightened kid rather than the enemy. He was like Sunstreaker and Sideswipe or even Bluestreak, just pricklier, more Decepticon, and saddled with more responsibilities. He didn’t know what exactly it was inside him that was hurting so much for the seeker, but he felt how raw and awful it was. He got up to leave the seeker to clean in peace, but a servo shot out and grabbed his arm.

“ _Please._ Stay.”

Prowl felt like he should feel conflicted, but he was happy it was easy to say: “Whatever you need.”

* * *

Eventually Starscream left the washroom, with Prowl following behind. The Praxian sat down by Jazz on the couch, giving him a chaste kiss and a knowing look that said he would explain later. Prowl turned his helm and noticed Starscream fiddling at the energon dispenser and reached behind to hand him the note.

“Seems you are getting sponsored,” he said, looking up at his faceplate.

Starscream looked at the note and then to his two strange roommates, blue optics and visor staring at his red ones. “I don’t even know what that _means_ ,” he said. Then he took the note and tore it up, letting it fall to the floor.

“Feel free to drink it,” he said hoarsely as he went to fill up a cube from the dispenser.

He tensed when he saw Jazz turn around on the couch to face him fully, pulling out a bottle of the high-grade and pouring some of it into his cube. Starscream watched with surprise.

“What Megatron doesn’t know, won’t kill him. Unfortunately,” Jazz said with a wink.

Starscream wanted to sneer, but his faceplate didn’t cooperate. He cracked a wry smile instead. He then topped off his high-grade cocktail with some regular energon in case Soundwave came out to make sure he was being temperate. He then made his way to the other couch and sat, nursing his energon.

They sat there in pleasant silence, letting the noise from the display waft around their audios. Dimly, Starscream noticed that it had been repaired from when he had thrown the remote earlier. He felt the eyes of the Autobots on him as he drank, but he didn’t really care. He just searched for numbness at the bottom of the cube and hope he would be able to recharge without replaying everything from earlier today.

The phantom feeling of something crawling inside his chassis close to his spark forced him to start talking about something else.

“I… had an interesting conversation with the organic before he betrayed me,” Starscream said, carefully. The two Autobots looked at him with interest. “Apparently the Quintessons sometimes ‘retire’ combatants, meaning they keep them here like some kind of celebrity.”

Prowl frowned as Jazz took on a thoughtful face. “Could be better than participating in the games for forever. It seemed the Palaxians we fought in the first game had been here for a while.”

Prowl made a disgusted noise. “I wonder how many of them were promised freedom too.”

Starscream stared at Autobots, before quietly adding, “I don’t think they will let me go.”

Prowl sighed. “We won’t let that happen to you,” he said.

Jazz looked a little surprised at the declaration, but to his credit, nodded. “We’re in this together ‘Screamer. Won’t leave without ya.”

Starscream sipped more of his energon without comment, turning to the display. “It also seems that making allies in here is harder than it seems,” he said as the recap of the game played. The news anchor Quintessons were whining that there was no footage of how Pran had managed to get the drop on him and stab him through the servo. Starscream smiled inwardly. Good. Something he could keep from them.

“Why _did_ he attack you?” Jazz asked.

“You mean other than attempting to win the game for his team?” Starscream said with slight indignation.

Jazz softened a little. “I think they were being opportunistic for sure, I’m just not sure why he turned on you at that moment.”

Starscream shrugged. “He said that I wasn’t very good at the race and the stabbed my hand. Injury to insult, so to speak.”

Prowl frowned. “Piri picked me out immediately as being new to the game. I realize now it was her seeing how much I knew and sizing up how much she could get away with. I suppose there are all kinds of ways to beat the games.”

Jazz folded his arms on the couch. “I suppose we can only rely on each other,” he said thoughtfully.

Starscream made a face at that but hid it by sipping more energon. It was saccharine comments of that nature that threatened to kill his buzz. Yet as he drank, he felt the high-grade waft through his systems and settle nicely on his processor. He felt his faceplates warm and he felt himself relaxing nicely.

“Who did you want to talk to tomorrow?” Jazz asked Prowl. “I was going to talk to Optimus,” he said.

“Oh, I guess Optimus as well.”

Starscream chose not to comment.

“Okay well I don’t want to say the same thing. What are you going to say?”

“Oh you know the usual,” Prowl said smiling lightly.

“’Oh hi, Prime! Just hanging out with some Quints, no worries though, Prowl got good with Katanas!’”

“I _was_ good wasn’t I?”

“Super hot, to be honest-“

“OKAY, I’m out,” Starscream said putting his cube down and getting up to go to his berth. “Thanks,” he mumbled with a wave to Prowl as he walked through the door and closed it behind him.

Prowl looked dumbstruck. “He said ‘thanks.’”

“Ha, he’s drunk.”

* * *

Starscream woke when his proximity alarm was going off in his helm. Soundwave was standing by his berth, looming. The seeker reared back, scrambling back against the wall, surprise and fear gripping his spark.

“Starscream’s dreams are _loud_ ,” the tape-deck said tiredly. 

Starscream relaxed a little. “I’m _sorry?_ ” he replied, rubbing the heel of his servo into his optic to clear it of recharge.

“Starscream: Require comforting?”

The seeker blinked a few times, his mouth agape. “Uh, no Soundwave… I’m alright.” Starscream very carefully started to move around the telepath to get off the berth. The tape-deck’s behavior was very unnerving.

Back in the Nemesis, the two hardly spoke except in the presence of Megatron, and even then, it was a rare event. Megatron favored the rare but insightful comments from the tape-deck, merely to ignore most of Starscream’s suggestions. Starscream had been briefly sympathetic to the telepath when they had woken in this place, mostly because of how much emotional turmoil he had been in to have all his bonds with his cassettes severed at once. No one should have to go through that alone, even if all they had to offer condolences was Starscream. But now, he was beginning to regret this. Soundwave had been more cold to him lately than he ever remembered.

“Starscream: Lying,” Soundwave said and climbed into the berth, and wrapped Starscream in a tight embrace.

Starscream squawked and tried to pull away. “Okay, listen _Soundwave_ , I’m not your sparkling to just comfort, I’m your superior officer! What the _slag are you doing?!_ ” he had raised his voice as the arms had come around him, holding him far too close. He whirred his fans in annoyance.

“Soundwave: also requires proximity.” Starscream stopped struggling at that but was still radiating tension. 

Soundwave continued. “Soundwave: Has empty void next to spark. Too much space.”

Starscream closed his optics as exhaled, relaxing in the hold of the tape-deck. First a relationship-counselor, now a therapist as well? These slagging _morons._

“It feels like there is a part of you that is missing,” he said. “A gravity-well of emotion, sucking everything you think and do into it.”

Soundwave shivered. “Yes. Starscream has experienced spark-break before?”

The seeker leaned his helm back against the wall. “Just… go to sleep, moron.”


	11. Chapter 11

They were picked up early the next morning and would be brought into the communication room one by one. Both Jazz and Soundwave tried to seem disinterested on the way there while secretly taking in every possible detail. Sadly, all the hallways still looked the same.

They reached a small alcove with some seating outside of a door to a room. The mechs took seats, and Prowl was escorted in first, the door closing behind him with two androids flanking the door. The room was nondescript; white, metal and polycarbonate. Up at the far end of the room was a desk with a chair and a microphone affixed on top of it. Artuz asked him with whom he would like to be connected. Prowl told him, sat down and waited. Artuz held up a little counter with the time ticking down.

Prowl took a deep breath. 

“…Hello? How did you get this frequency?”

“Optimus!”

“Prowl?! Where are you? Is Jazz with you?”

“Optimus, I’m sorry, I only have five minutes to explain. Jazz and I are alive, but we have been captured and are being held by Quintessons and we are being forced to compete in games for their entertainment.” He heard Optimus suck air into his intakes at the mention of the planet. “They are telling us that if we compete and win, we can go home,” Prowl said, feeling his vocalizer crack a little on the last word. 

“Oh and Starscream and Soundwave are here too,” he added lamely. 

Optimus sighed. “Well at least I can tell Megatron to stop calling me and demanding to know where they are,” Optimus said irritably.

Prowl felt his resolve slipping to make this official and competent and strong. He was always like that. Loyal, quiet, and does what needs to be done. Now at hearing his leader make an almost joke, he felt himself chuckle and it scared him a little.

“Soundwave I might understand, but you’d think he wouldn’t want to find Starscream,” Prowl said. What was he doing? He should be giving intel to Optimus, telling him where all his files were, strategies that he had come up with to defeat the Decepticons-

“Yes, I’m sure when you return Megatron will thank you for keeping Starscream away for some time. I’m sure he’s getting some peace and quiet.” It was if Prime _knew_ exactly what was going on in Prowl’s mind. That he just needed to hear his voice. The words “when you return,” not “if you return” were resounding in his audios.

Prowl laughed and ended in a sigh. “I had planned this differently,” he said. “Jazz will call you shortly after me and hopefully do a better job.”

“We do the best we can Prowl. I need you to stay alive and keep the others safe.”

“All of them?” Prowl said, laughing a little.

“Yes, all of them. I would not have a single Cybertronian back in the hands of the Quintessons, even if it were Megatron himself.” Prowl’s optics widened a little at that. He also noticed the almost imperceptible shift of Artuz, almost as if his expression had changed under his mask.

“How have things been back home?” Prowl said, changing the subject.

“Things have been quiet without the four of you. We were mostly bewildered when you disappeared on the battlefield, and Megatron retreated after Ravage and Laserbeak started behaving strangely.”

“They cut their sparkbonds to Soundwave,” he replied bitterly. “They said to make things fair. He’s still alive though and… maybe congenial isn’t the right word, but not completely terrible.”

“And you Prowl? How are you?”

Prowl was taken aback by the question. “I… I’ve been better Optimus. I have Jazz with me though. I’ll be okay.”

Artuz inclined his masked head forward. “30 seconds left, P-09.”

“Give my best wishes to everyone, Prime. Especially Bluestreak and the twins. They will need it.”

“Prowl, listen to me. You will make it though this. Survive, and we will rescue you-“

“Optimus, you can’t-“

“-so don’t worry.”

The line went dead.

* * *

“J-06, who would you like to talk to for 5 minutes?”

Jazz paused. “Anyone in the whole universe? How did you manage that?”

Artuz seemed to examine the end of his tentacle in boredom. “A _name_ J-06, and you would do best if you stopped trying to be _clever_ ,” he said with an edge to his voice.

Jazz smiled. “Optimus Prime, please.”

“How original. Very well.”

A momentary pause, a crackle, then the sound of a connection.

“…hello?”

“Optimus,” Jazz said into the microphone with great relief. “It’s good to hear your voice.”

“Jazz! Prowl said you would be calling. How are you?”

“For now, we are safe. They want us to participate in their… _entertainment_. We managed to win the last mission, hence why we can talk to you.”

“We will launch immediately-“

“Yeah so Optimus, I think I need to tell you not to come after us as there would be no point, though I know you would try. You can’t. The only chance we’ll get is if we win this thing and even then, promises are dicey as it is. So, I believe in order to make sure we win, I can’t be an Autobot anymore,” he said his vocalizer cracking.

“Wait, Jazz, wait-“

“Yeah, mech, I think that resigning is the best I can do for you now because our chances are slim, Optimus. I’m going to try and bring Prowl home, but escape will be almost impossible and winning will be really tough. I don’t want to let you down if I have to do things that you wouldn’t be proud of,” he said, his vocalizer thick.

“Jazz, I _need you here_. We will find you, and we will rescue you- all of you-“

“Optimus, you absolutely cannot do that. It’s the Quintessons. They are even more advanced than they were before.”

“30 Seconds, J-06,” Artuz warned.

Jazz started venting quickly. “Optimus, you were the best Prime a mech could ever ask for and I just hope that we all stay alive long enough to get back to throw back some high-grade or something. I’m buying,” he said laughing a little. “Say hi to the rest of the gang for me, and give ‘em Pit, okay?”

“Jazz! Jazz wait-“

The line went dead. Jazz sat there for a few moments, letting his spark pulse painfully in his chest and just exhaled slowly. He wasn’t sure if Optimus was convinced or not, but resigning would at least give the other Autobots pause and likely throw some red tape in the way. They couldn’t mount a huge force to rescue a Neutral in deep enemy territory, especially with a war going on.

Jazz thought they might try anyway, but it was an attempt to slow them down. Prowl was going to be a problem though as he would likely never abandon the Autobots no matter the situation. He sighed as he stood away from the terminal.

* * *

“And who would you like to connect to?”

“Megatron,” came the monotonous reply.

“… how DARE you contact me without an introduction.”

“Megatron, apologies. We have five minutes to discuss.”

“…Soundwave? You’re alive? Where the frag are you?”

“Starscream and I have been captured and placed in Quintesson games along with Autobot Jazz and Autobot Prowl. Escape: Unlikely.”

“…Are either of you injured?” Soundwave understood what he was really asking and attempted to not get irked.

“Negative. However. Cassettes…”

“Yes, they’ve been quite troublesome the past few days. Claiming you are dead.”

“Negative. I still function. But they severed the bonds.”

“…fragging turbosquids.” Artuz visibly stiffened and clenched his tentacles around the timer in poorly-disguised fury.

“Request: Tell my cassettes I think of them. Please.”

There was a slight pause on the other end of the line. “Of course, Soundwave. I will do this for you. Make sure Starscream doesn’t get slagged before I get a chance to do it myself.”

Soundwave sighed. Always back to the seeker. He might never get an answer to this question, so he thought he’d be impertinent. Just once. “Query: Why did Megatron promote Starscream and not Soundwave to second-in-command?”

Megatron stifled a laugh. “Has it really bothered you this whole time? I didn’t take you to be a jealous sort.” Soundwave remained silent. “Still. I will answer this for you, old friend. The only things he has that you lack are imagination and the desire to challenge me. I like a challenge, old friend. You are my most loyal soldier, and I do not wish you to change. You both fulfill your roles admirably.”

Soundwave felt his spark swell. His pain eased a little at knowing he had not failed his leader, just that he had a different role to fill. That was sufficient. “Thank you, Lord Megatron.”

“30 seconds, SW-17.”

“Acknowledged. Megatron: dim audio feed.”

“Acknowledged.”

Artuz looked confused when suddenly a strange, loud cacophony of noise poured out of Soundwave’s vocalizer. “What the frag-“

Then the line went dead. Soundwave stood and bowed. Artuz looked horrified. “Accursed creature,” he said with disgust.  
  


* * *

“Alright SS-22, who would you like to speak with? I’m assuming Megatron?”

Starscream was glaring at the microphone like it was going to bite him.

“…SS-22? Shall I connect you to Mega-“

“No, thank you mmm-master. Connect me to the Autobot Skyfire. Please.”

Artuz did a doubletake as Starscream sat down. He noticed a small tremble in the servo of the seeker as the line connected.

“…uhm, yes?” the voice said.

Starscream wilted slightly. Then he took a deep vent. “I fragging _hate you_ ,” he said with vitriol.

“…Starscream? What in the world-”

“I can’t stand to see you; you are stupid, meek, bot-fraggin son of a Cessna,” he spat into the microphone. “You are traitorous slag not fit to lick the organic filth off my pedes, _do you understand?!”_

“Not this _again_ -“

“And your scientific conclusions were all _wrong_! I never told you, but you had such terrible ideas, Skyfire, really! Everything from advanced warp coil dynamics to energon refinement to-“

“Okay now you are just being an aft-“

“-binary rotation of twin suns with oort clouds, I swear a _sparkling_ could have come up with something better for a thesis than that!”

“Oh and _yours_ was so much better about wing dynamics and air currents of seekers in flight? You self-obsessed, narcissistic, arrogant _PRICK_ , of course you chose a thesis that could only benefit _yourself_!”

Artuz was practically slack jawed at this point.

Starscream was nodding, with an angry grin. “Oh that’s right, insult me, just the mech who tried to save your life and you repay with siding with fleshlings and _Autobots_ ; _you are just so fragging moral aren’t you-“_

“Wait.”

“You never bothered to find out what happened to me after you disappeared, did you? That I _mourned for you_ , that they accused me of your murder! They thought I had _killed_ you, Skyfire, and they took away everything I had. Then you dared to judge me and then-“

“I _never_ judged you, I just couldn’t fathom how you had changed-“

Starscream’s vocalizer started to strain. “- _you_ just couldn’t wait to stab me in the back-“

“You shot _me_ in the back _and_ the front more than once you know-“

“-in front of Megatron and-“

“STARSCREAM,” Skyfire shouted, his vocalizer cracking. “Why- why do I feel like you are trying to say… goodbye?”

Starscream froze and just looked at the microphone mournfully. Curse that damned shuttle. “I…”

“30 seconds, SS-22.”

“I will likely never have a chance to say it in person,” Starscream said, lamely letting his helm dip down.

“Whatever it is, Optimus can help! Whatever Megatron has done to you, whatever trouble you are in-“

“I… am sorry I didn’t wait longer to find you back then. I missed you.”

“Star-“

“Goodbye Sky.” The line went cold.

Starscream sat there for a little bit longer, his servos folded neatly in his lap. He felt a small bit of sad warmth wrap around his spark, because this time he actually had gotten to say goodbye to the fragging shuttle. 

He stood, his optics down on the ground. “Thank you, kind masters and sponsors, for this wonderful gift,” he said, his vocalizer raspy. “I cannot hope that we would ever be so blessed to have this gift again,” he said closing his optics as the words tumbled out of his mouth, “but is that even a possibility?”

Artuz seemed smitten as he just tilted his head slightly in almost… affection. “I have so missed having a seeker around,” he said. “Anything is possible my dove, but I will pass on your effusive thanks, and maybe they will give you the gift again.”

Starscream nodded and looked extremely tired. 

“Let’s return you to your quarters.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slipping in some surprise SkyStar because reasons later. Friends on Tumblr got a sneak preview of this conversation awhile ago, I just wasn't sure how to weave it in. I might post more writings on there too, but hell I don't know what I'm doing lol (https://www.tumblr.com/blog/bairdcrevan).
> 
> Thank you all for the comments and kudos! You guys are fun <3


	12. Chapter 12

The Cybertronians were placed back into their quarters, and all of them seemed thrown into their processors over the calls they just had. It was a strange dose of reality from the world they had been living in, to know that the war still existed; that their friends and comrades were still out there fighting was hard to conceptualize. The thoughts soured their temporarily truce and made it feel even more artificial and brittle than it already was.

Soundwave noticed he appeared to be the only one who was not consumed by thoughts of doubt and remorse over something or other. The Autobots had retreated to their berthroom and were talking in hushed tones. Starscream had retreated to his berth as well but was just staring up at the ceiling.

Soundwave took that as close to an invitation as possible.

“Query: How was call with Megatron?” Soundwave asked, settling on his own berth on the opposite side of the room. 

Starscream sighed. “Fine,” he said, clearly lying. The trick with Starscream was that almost everything he said was a lie. There sometimes wasn’t even any logic to it. Like right now.

“Megatron: Worries for you,” Soundwave said.

Starscream had closed his optics, rolling over to face the wall, his wings tense.

“Instructions: Keep Starscream functioning,” he said. He didn’t relay the quote _exactly_ , but he also was not lying.

Starscream peaked over his wing to look at the tape-deck at that. “He did not say that,” Starscream remarked.

Soundwave shrugged noncommittedly. “Query: Who did you call if not Megatron?”

Starscream sat up slowly, looking at Soundwave with great suspicion. “Why, so that you can harass me for it? Because I didn’t call our _glorious_ … leader.” Starscream had started with the same hatred that he always had when it came to talking about Megatron out of earshot of the gunformer but had suddenly stopped. The seeker was staring off into nothing, as if the reality had just set in.

“Observation: Starscream may never speak to Megatron again.”

Starscream turned his optics and glared at the tape-deck. Then he looked down at the ground and turned inward, looking bitter and small. “I… didn’t know what to say to him. I still don’t.”

“Query: But you did know what to say to Skyfire?” It was a guess, albeit an easy one. Starscream didn’t seem surprised.

Starscream sighed and crossed his arms across his cockpit, looking petulant. “Megatron would have just yelled at me the whole time. I just wanted to say… goodbye.”

Soundwave just stared at the seeker for a moment. He slowly clenched his fist. It was an unspeakably sad thing that Starscream was losing hope in their situation. He wondered if the others had used their time to say goodbye as well. Somehow, he doubted it. He trusted Jazz to have some kind of plan, and Prowl as well. Starscream had used the time to be selfish, maybe, but had also used the time so that he could face what came next properly. Maybe he knew better than the rest of them of what was coming.

He slagging _hated_ the Quintessons. He had stood by so far, watching them terrorize Starscream as he nursed his own hatred and malcontent. He would attempt to do better.

“Starscream: You will survive this,” he said. “Soundwave promised Megatron.”

Starscream looked at him quizzically, but the edge to his glare had softened somehow. Soundwave didn’t dare jump into his mind as much as he wanted to, as he felt like it would be an invasion of the trust he was trying to build with the seeker. 

“ _Oh darlings!”_ came the coo of their Quintesson handler as he came into the other room. “ _It’s time for me to give you your next mission!”_

Soundwave stood and offered a servo to Starscream. The seeker didn’t hesitate and allowed himself to be pulled out of the berth and into the main room.

* * *

“So the next mission is a personal favorite of mine. So many of our viewers are interested in getting to _know_ you, so it is time for the Interview!” Artuz’s sanguine excitement was not infectious.

“Now I know you dears are particularly good at snappy, sarcastic comments,” he said irritably, inclining his head towards Jazz, “but you should know that if you give us good answers, you will get an extra two-day break. You won’t be competing against anyone else tonight, just a relaxing chat with one of our favorite Gamemasters Gygax. Now get out there and be _charming_ ,” the Quintesson said, praying that they actually would be.

The androids escorted them out of the room and to another place nearby. Jazz observed that the arenas, rooms, locations they were brought to was almost always the same distance away. That felt… important.

“No need to be nervous, mechs, you will do great,” said Gygax, a particularly large Quintesson seated behind a desk on a sound stage. The Cybertronians were all seated around him in a semi-circle with lots of cameras and an audience behind them, quietly murmuring before the show.

“J-06, we are likely going to start with you, since you seem to be the most easy-going of the group.”

“Glad to be of service,” Jazz replied, smiling.

“Welcome back ladies and gents to a particularly _interesting_ set of guests I have for you tonight, the Cybertronians!” The audience erupted in cheers and excitement, with a few femme voices in the back yelling “I love you SS-22!” at the top of their lungs. Starscream, surprisingly dipped his helm in an embarrassed smile and gave a small wave.

Jazz narrowed his optics. 

“First of all, J-06, _thank you_ for agreeing to be here.” 

Jazz blinked his optics but didn’t skip a beat. “I was just _dying_ to be here, Master Gygax!” Surprisingly, this elicited quite a few chuckles from the audience. Apparently, they liked subversive humor. Good. He could work with that.

“It must have been difficult to be separated from your leader in a time of war,” Gygax prompted. “Can you tell us anything about how that feels?”

Jazz considered for a moment. “You know, I would be lying if I said it wasn’t difficult, and especially so because of the _teammates_ you all gave me.”

“Oh, is there trouble on Team Cybertron?”

“Not _trouble_ per se, maybe _difficulties_. I mean three day-cycles ago I was trying to shoot his wings off!” He said throwing a servo at Starscream.

The seeker’s optics danced under the harsh stage lighting. “I suppose it’s a good thing you always miss,” he said dryly. More laughter.

“But now, I have to save him all the time when his wings _do_ get shot at, and it’s quite tiresome,” Jazz added, tilting his helm. The audience was eating this exchange up.

“Yes, I suppose it is difficult for me to constantly be handing you the victory so far in our games, isn’t it?” There were a few ooohs that came from the audience and surprised laughter. Apparently, this rivalry was not expected, and it had everyone at the edge of their seats.

Gygax cleared his throat. “P-09, do you think your enforcer background gives you an advantage in the games?”

Prowl looked to Jazz. “Uh, well, I think so,” he started lamely. “I mean certainly in some games. More than others.”

“What do you think benefits you the most?”

Prowl frowned. “I suppose my ability to understand the rules and what is within or outside the bounds the… game designers… have set forth for us.”

Gygax leaned on a tentacle. “So, you mean so you can figure out how to cheat?” A few jeering laughs.

“Oh, trust me, he does _not_ cheat,” Jazz added with a smile. Surprised laughter erupted and even Gygax was taken aback.

“Are you so sure?” Starscream said with a wink at Prowl. The audience lost it.

“Haha, SS-22, careful, you might break some hearts, especially in this audience! How aware are you of your growing popularity?”

Starscream’s smile hardened, but he was able to cover it up with a sigh. “I suppose it can’t be helped,” he said tragically. “With so few seekers left these days, I’m sure it is a rarity to see one.”

Jazz and Prowl both clenched their jaw. Soundwave, who had been stock-still up until this point suddenly looked quite amused at the lie.

Gygax gave a dramatic gasp. “There used to be thousands of seekers; what happened?”

Starscream nodded, sadly. “Many of us joined the Decepticons out of fear after the destruction of Vos. But war takes a hard toll on everyone. No frame suffered as much as the seekers,” he said dramatically, holding a servo to his chest in solemnity. The audience seemed to quite depressed along with him.

“Speaking of war, SW-17, what is your opinion on the outcome of your little civil war?”

“Clearly a Decepticon victory is inevitable,” he replied.

“Really? Why’s that?”

“Because we have SS-22, obviously,” he said as his visor flashed. There were quite a few guffaws at that and cheers. Starscream bowed a little in his seat, giving an appreciative smile to Soundwave.

Gygax turned to Jazz. “You look like you want to reply to that, J-06.”

“Oh, I wanted them to keep talking, master Gygax, I found it quite enlightening. You see, often I find that if a Decepticon monologues enough, he’ll give away his master plan every time.”

“Oh? Are the Decepticons not winning the war?”

“I mean if you call a leaky, rusty base at the bottom of the ocean and constantly running out of energon _winning_ , then maybe. _Megatron_ certainly doesn’t seem to think SS-22 is the key to their victory.”

Starscream’s optics narrowed but he forced himself into a tinkling little laugh. “Oh, here we go, the little Autobot spymaster about to tell us what _our leader_ thinks, eh, SW-17? It’s quite adorable.” Starscream stifled a tremble in his servo by making a fist.

Soundwave gave some canned, monotone laughter that was a little bit more disturbing than agreeable.

Jazz was undeterred. If Starscream wanted sympathy, he was about to get it. “No, I think Megatron would treat Starscream better if he believed he was an asset.”

The audience stilled and looked to Starscream who was trying his best to maintain his composure. 

Gygax put two tentacles together. “SS-22, what is J-06 implying? Is Megatron… unkind to you?”

Starscream could not withhold a murderous glance at Jazz. Then a smile crept out across his lips. “Master Gygax, you mustn’t believe everything the Autobots tell you. It is true Megatron is a little heavy-servoed with me, but it has led me to understand my role in his army and my dedication is absolute.” 

Prowl was astounded as the lies flowed off this mech’s glossa like sweetest high-grade. 

“Any response to that, J-06?”

Jazz paused. “I suppose it is more jealousy that makes me talk like that, Master Gygax. We would love to have SS-22 join the Autobots, but we cannot seem to sway him,” he lied. Starscream sat back lower in his chair and had to consciously stop himself from rolling his optics.

“What about you, SW-17? Would you ever consider joining the Autobots?”

Soundwave tilted his helm. “Soundwave: Supposes that would be like asking a Quintesson to join the Autobots. Quite impossible and below standards.” This got the audience laughing a little again.

“Well that is about all the time we have. I think this was quite fascinating, don’t you think? Be sure to request your own spot at the next inspection to get a closer look at team Cybertron!” As the show closed down, the four Cybertronians were led off the set by the androids.

“What the _frag_ was that?” Starscream snarled once they had gotten into the hallway.

“I was just helping you earn sympathy points,” Jazz said, shrugging.

“Frag you, Autobot,” the seeker replied, angrily. “Don’t do me any favors.”

Jazz sighed. “I was following your lead, _Screech_. Seems like you are the favorite of us, and we might as well keep it that way to keep getting special dispensation.”

Prowl tried to put a calming hand on Jazz, but the saboteur shook it off. Starscream’s face darkened with anger and a touch of hurt. “At least when Megatron uses me, it’s for something bigger than merely ‘dispensation.’” Jazz’s visor flashed in anger but was silenced by the approaching figure of their handler.

“Excellently done my dears, that was top-notch perfection! We laughed, we cried, _metaphorically of course_ , and you squirmed your little frames into everyone’s minds and hearts!”

The seeker and the saboteur glared at each other for a moment, but then broke off to go follow Artuz and some androids, while Prowl and Soundwave followed awkwardly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trouble is brewing on team Cybertron <3 lol Thanks for all the comments and kudos!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep so let’s up the creepiness factor! Happy early HALLOWEEN >_>

When they returned to their suite, Starscream slipped away into his berthroom without comment. Soundwave, Jazz, and Prowl got some energon from their dispenser and sat sullenly around the room in awkward silence.

“You should go talk to him,” Prowl said after a few kliks.

Jazz snapped his helm to look at Prowl. “Frag that, no I’m not going to do that. Everything I said was true. We don’t need him trying to get the Quintessons on the side of the Decepticons.” Soundwave just stared at them from the couch offering no comment.

Prowl rolled his optics. “That isn’t what was happening. He has been through a lot Jazz, you should not antagonize an _ally_ ,” Prowl said, looking disappointed. 

Jazz frowned, and then turned to look at Soundwave. “Is any of what I said untrue?”

Soundwave tilted he helm, looking almost contemplative. “Jazz: Surely not asking Soundwave to comment on the relationships of my commanders.” Jazz huffed ignobly. “Because if Soundwave did answer Jazz, Soundwave would tell you that things are more complicated than Jazz is making them out to be.”

Jazz shrugged irritably. “What does it matter? We are all just going to go back to shooting each other once this is all over. Our factions are probably fighting right now as we sit here trying to nurse the feelings of one tightly-wound seeker.”

Prowl shook his head, looking more disappointed.

Soundwave’s visor flashed. “Jazz’s assumptions: incorrect. Megatron would prioritize the Quintesson threat over the Autobots.”

Prowl nodded. “Optimus would do the same. You know he would, Jazz.”

Soundwave continued. “Query: Is it not possible that a temporary alliance could be forged, just as we have made one here?”

Jazz sagged a little at that. It _was_ possible of course. In fact, it was probably quite likely. But that wasn’t the point. Didn’t they understand that if the factions somehow worked together, they would try and think they could rescue them? It was pointless to even try. 

He looked to the door that Starscream had gone through and sighed. Despite his own feelings of hopelessness, Prowl was right. Starscream was an easy target, likely because he and Jazz were somewhat similar. 

He awkwardly walked toward the door and knocked, feeling the optics on his back. There was no reply from behind the door, so he walked in anyway.

Prowl and Soundwave watched him leave. Prowl smiled softly into his energon, and Soundwave watched Prowl thoughtfully.

“I thought that Jazz was the master manipulator here,” Prowl said smiling as he finished his energon.

Soundwave smiled under his mouthplate but said nothing else.

* * *

Jazz walked in, feeling awkward and exposed. The seeker was sitting in his berth watching him carefully with his optics, but otherwise not moving. He had a cat-like grace to him, Jazz thought. That made him all the more anxious.

“I uh. Well. I’m not usually at a loss for words.”

Starscream narrowed his optics.

“Uhm. Well. I’m somewhat proud of what I do in my line of work,” he said. “I train spies. I like espionage. Sabotage. I try to outmaneuver mechs in their minds rather than on the battlefield. And I’m _good_ at it.” Starscream had started to look more and more irritated.

“So, when I say that I miscalculated my hand here, I’m trying to say I wasn’t proud of how that went on the stage.”

Starscream’s irritation seem to deflate slightly. Starscream turned his red optics off of the mech. “For the record,” he said, his vocalizer raspy, “it wasn’t as much what was said that was the problem. I don’t dispute anything,” he said bitterly.

Jazz kind of wanted to yell “I told you so” through the closed door at his enforcer boyfriend but decided against it.

“However,” Starscream said. “I don’t like that kind of information being utilized by my _ally_ to my _enemy_ ,” he said.

Jazz winced as he looked up to the ceiling and nodded. “Point taken.”

“They already expected me to call Megatron. They are going to be all over the information you just shared and try to read between some lines and… I don’t know, theorize? I mean, I am a mech that doesn’t mind attention, but they are taking it to a completely different level.”

Jazz nodded then looked at him quizzically. “You didn’t call Megatron?”

Starscream rolled his optics. “ _Why_ does everyone care who I called?”

Jazz noticed something in the seeker’s optics. It was a kind of urgency or a kind of strained look. The kind of look you give someone begging for them to change the subject.

File that away for later.

“You’re right. Not my business,” he said, inclining his head a little into a bow. “I just came here to say that… I think I was unfair to you. For what it’s worth.”

Starscream sneered. “I don’t need you to be fair to me, Autobot. Just stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours.”

Jazz shrugged. “As you wish,” he said, thinking that was close to an “apology accepted” as he was going to get. “It was nice to be able to banter with you like the old times. Feels like home.”

The corner of Starscream’s mouth twitched. “Miss home, do you? Is that Cybertron or the mudball?”

Jazz looked thoughtful for a moment. “I guess it is the mudball then. Haven’t been to Cybertron in quite some time. How’s it looking?”

Starscream frowned. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Jazz smirked. “Well as scintillating as this conversation has been, I think I’ll leave you alone for a bit, yeah?” he said jumping off the berth and going to the door.

Starscream snorted and sat in the darkness.

* * *

The next morning, Prowl had gotten up first to see that a paper envelope had been slipped under their door in the night. It had their designations on the front in elaborate Cybertronian glyphs.

Inside was an invitation to a gala. He sighed tiredly.

Eventually everyone got up and he showed them the invite. Inside, it read:

> “Dearest Cybertronians,
> 
> Your presence is requested at a gala event being held this afternoon. While this is not a gamed event, your best behavior will be expected as you may find your charming presence elicits more sponsorships for yourselves. Androids will pick you up around [12:00pm] to get you ready.
> 
> Sincerely, your loving Handler,
> 
> Artuz.”

“I thought we got a break for two days,” Starscream whined.

“Clearly they don’t count this as work,” Prowl said, flipping the invitation over as if it might grant him more knowledge if he just looked closer. “What does ‘get ready’ mean?”

They could only guess.

Their guesses were about right.

It was uncomfortable and needlessly thorough. They were picked up by androids and escorted to a room where more androids cleaned and polished their armor to a ridiculous shine. There were waxes applied and joints lubricated. It would have been nice had it been under different circumstances. They were then outfitted with what Jazz called “play nice” collars that were gaudy ornate things of gold and jewels that matched their paint colors. Only Starscream seemed to not mind.

They were escorted into the main ballroom.

Just as everything else had been disturbing since they had arrived at their new lives, the gala also unnerved them. There was something familiar about the furnishings, and it harkened back to the Golden Age of the Cybertron before there had descended into factions and war and torn then home world apart.

Artuz greeted them. He was a little more muted than his usual exuberant self.

“Hello my darlings,” he said. “I tried to tell them you needed more rest, but I suppose the show must go on,” he said tiredly, turning around in a flourish. He beckoned them to follow as they walked into the room together.

“Is there something we are supposed to be doing?” Prowl asked as his blue optics flitted around the room.

Artuz nodded. “Yes, if I had more time, I would have prepped you better. I apologize for my failure to you,” he said quietly. The four of them exchanged looks of confusion, but the Quintesson continued. “Try and mingle as best you can. They were intrigued by your interview and want to see more of you up close and personal and… not paralyzed. They are going to try and split you up, so do your best to stay together as you can. I can’t be in all places at once,” the Quintesson said sadly.

“You almost sound as if you care,” Jazz said. He might have lacked a little of the anger he usually had when he said such a retort.

Artuz turned slightly to look up at Jazz behind him. “I recognize it is a lot to ask of you to trust me, but I really do want you to survive,” he said turning back to the gala. “Please be careful.”

As if on cue, they were intercepted by a crowd of variously sized Quintessons who were pulling them into four different directions. They pestered them about their interview questions and other inane things about the war, their favorite flavor of energon, or what they enjoyed doing when they weren’t killing each other.

Jazz managed to keep tabs on Prowl and could politely extricate himself from the conversation to gently put a servo on Prowl’s winglet. They were vibrating with nervousness. Upon seeing it was Jazz who was slinking up behind him, he relaxed slightly and was able to be somewhat charming to his questioners with Jazz’s help.

“Did you enjoy being an enforcer?” said a white-masked Quintesson, the expression looking like it was laughing. 

“I did enjoy my role, yes,” Prowl managed to say with a smile. An android came by, gliding as if on wheels and handing both Jazz and Prowl champagne-styled flutes of what appeared to be high-grade. “T-hank you,” Prowl said furrowing his brow. “But yes, I enjoyed the chase and the idea that I was helping make things safer for everyone.”

The Quintesson nodded, and his companions seemed to be politely interested. “And what about you two? When did you sparkbond?”

Prowl stiffened, and he seemed to unconsciously lean back into Jazz seeking comfort. Jazz smiled, his movements becoming like liquid mercury. He chose to answer for Prowl. “Masters, we have not sparkbonded by any means. We understand that would be against the rules,” he said smiling lightly. 

Still, he allowed a possessive arm to wrap around the back of Prowl’s waist, pulling him closer. He felt Prowl’s frame heat up in a blush. “That being said, I am not opposed to the idea should our masters grant us worthy.” He felt Prowl tense more, but Jazz squeezed him gently trying to communicate trust.

The Quintessons seemed pleased by the answer. “We usually don’t allow sparkbonds of our combatants,” the white masked Quintesson replied. “It can affect what happens in the games too much either from giving an advantage or a disadvantage when one of the mates perishes,” he said without any hint of empathy. “But I admit, I see the appeal in you two. You even match!”

Jazz was thankful for his visor at this point, that his optics might not be immediately visible to show his hatred. Yes, they could be a matching _set_. How perfect that could be. He immediately started thinking of where this Quintesson could stick his matching set-

“We appreciate your compliments, masters. We are just happy to serve,” Prowl said in a sweet voice, and inclining his helm in deference. Jazz felt his spark swell and bit back the bitter taste he had in his mouth and smiled as well. He knew Prowl had said the right thing when he heard some “awws” from their small crowd. 

However, he wasn’t sure their vocalizations were in relation to his affection for his lover or if they were for his and Prowls obedient subservience.

* * *

Soundwave had been whisked away by an Android who led him to a corner of the room, anointed with large plush chairs where three large Quintessons and their attendants watched him carefully. They had the tell-tale signs of having multiple switching masks.

Ah. Judges. He wondered when this would happen.

“SW-17. It has been a long time. Do you remember us?”

Soundwave inclined his helm in what he knew was perceived as deference. “SW-17: Remembers the Judges,” he said.

“Still sporting that annoying vocal tick, I see,” said the one to the left. He remembered her name was Justitia.

Soundwave straightened. “SW-17 vocal patterns were styled at the behest of Judge Licentus,” he replied, smirking under his faceplate.

The name had the reaction he had hoped for.

Justitia dropped her drink and some of it splattered on Soundwave. The other two judges made noises of disgust and offense. “You _dare_ speak his name to _us_?” Judge Sevax said, shaking his fisted tentacles at the tape-deck. “You who was instrumental to his _murder_?”

“Is speaking the truth illegal now?” came another voice beside Soundwave.

It was the Judge Adveraros. He was the only one that could actually be called fair of the four of them. Soundwave inclined his head at the newcomer. Sevax still seemed incensed but he did force himself to relax further into his chair. “And besides,” Adveraros said, “SW-17 was never formally accused for Licentus’s death. I wonder why you bring it up now.”

“Maybe he _should_ be,” Justitia said as an android was wiping up the spilled drink off the floor beside her. “He’s only been mildly entertaining in the games thus far. I thought a former gladiator would be much more fun,” she spat haughtily.

“Apologies, Judge Justitia,” Soundwave monotoned. “SW-17 will endeavor to make brushes with death more appealing.”

If she noticed the sarcasm, she didn’t let on. She actually seemed happy with his response after giving him a quick nod.

Adveraros turned to Soundwave. “SW-17, if I may have a word,” he said gently.

Soundwave bowed to the judges at his waist and turned around to follow Adveraros who had a laughing mask on his face.

They were far enough away from the other judges who began to talk amongst themselves, entertained now and not focused on them. “I wonder why you antagonize them when you know they want you dead, my former court-reporter.”

Soundwave inclined his head. “If the Judges want SW-17 terminated, who can stop them?” he replied, his visor flashing.

“Not all the Judges want you on a trial. Licentus was not… He was particularly unjust to the mechs in his employ. No one misses him. They do miss throwing their weight around to Transformers though.”

His words sounded kind, but Adveraros was a fair judge and still dangerous. And Soundwave _had_ murdered Licentus, so it didn’t really matter anyway. Still, he heard the word of caution that was being expressed to him.

“Apologies, Judge Adveraros. But why does the welfare of SW-17 matter?”

Adveraros tilted his head a little at Soundwave, and the tape-deck felt his intakes lurch. “They want to you to get SS-22 up to speed on what the Quintessons want from him. It might be easier for his psyche if you are the one to break the news to him.”

Soundwave froze, his processor reeling. “He is not strong enough,” he replied almost a whisper.

“Well then every little bit of encouragement will help, won’t it SW-17?” Adveraros clasped his tentacles behind his back. “You will know when it is the right time. But if he has longer to accept his role, maybe it will be easier on him?”

Soundwave was frozen to the spot as he looked down at the ground, trying to settle his mind. His spark burned in his chest and he felt quite ill. He felt Adveraros get very close to him and whisper into his audios. Adveraros had produced a microfiber cloth and was gently wiping away the energon that had splashed on his chassis. Soundwave felt his very plating was starting to crawl. “It will be for the best if you help him, SW-17.” He then turned away, leaving Soundwave gasping for intake under his mask.

* * *

“So my dear SS-22, tell us, who _is_ Skyfire?”

Starscream’s intakes paused for a moment as he tried to keep his face impassive. “Mistress, I’m not sure-“

“Oh come now, we all heard the call,” she said, flippantly. “It was all over last night’s recap show of the games. You four have each have your own segment now!”

Starscream struggled to reset his vocalizer. “Apologies, Mistress. I did not realize my call was going to have an audience. It was supposed to be a reward-“

“ _Yes_ dear, but your privacy was not part of it. We thought you had called Megatron, especially after we heard your interview. But then your calls were leaked. We wanted to see more of what is happening between you and Megatron! But no, you call this random shuttle-class transport, and we just couldn’t imagine why! Don’t you have a nice seeker boyfriend or girlfriend waiting for you back home?”

Starscream was not often at a loss for words, but this was one of the few times. “I- apologize, Mistress-“

“So who _is he_?” the Quintesson said, lifting a tentacle under his chin. Her voice had dropped a register, and something in Starscream flipped on. It was like ice-water caught in his energon lines, and he knew he could not resist.

“He was a friend from the Iacon Science Academy,” he replied. “We explored the galaxy together, until he was lost in an accident.”

“Let me rephrase, little dove,” she said sweetly. “Who is he to you? _Why_ did you call _him?_ ”

Starscream blinked and felt his breathing stall.

“Oh you are trying to resist it,” she said behind her mask, almost a whisper. “That only makes me want to know more.”

“Egreata, surely you can stop accosting my only seeker,” came the shrill voice of Artuz. The femme Quintesson removed her tentacle from Starscream’s chin and he felt the feeling of helplessness fade. He had never been more grateful to their handler than at this moment. “And if you want to know more about his relationships, you could always buy him another phone call home.”

Egreata laughed in a trill. “You are such a hard sell, Artuz! But you are absolutely right. If I want something, I’m happy to pay any price.”

“Glad to hear it, Egreata. Let’s discuss terms.”

Starscream was blissfully allowed to take his leave from the conversation and bowed to turn back towards his teammates who were seated in chairs on the far side of the room. Quintessons would come up to take pictures with them and get their autographs. Jazz was doing his best to make up for the less congenial Prowl and Soundwave.

“Ya a’ight, Screamer?” he said as he smiled and waved.

Starscream shivered and was able to plaster on a smile. “Our reward calls were apparently public knowledge,” he said.

“Ah,” said Jazz. “Did you say something unfortunate during yours?”

Starscream gave a look to Soundwave, who had reached out a servo from his seat and was holding his. Apparently, it had been shaking. “They just seem oddly interested in my… personal relationships.”

Soundwave’s servo twitched around his. The tape-deck was giving him a look, but Starscream couldn’t quite make out what it meant.

They were quiet as the gala began to wind down and finally Artuz came to pick them back up. He looked frazzled. “Well! Nothing egregious that I couldn’t handle it,” he said warmly. “And SS-22 you will be invited to call Megatron in the morning.”

Starscream nodded stiffly as they stood to follow the handler out of the ballroom and back to their quarters.


	14. Chapter 14

Optimus had called a meeting a few days after the calls with Jazz and Prowl. Without those two there to lead the briefing, Prime was relying on Ironhide and Mirage to assist, but they could not seem to get along. There had been plenty of insults bandied about, but it was only when it looked like Ironhide was revving up to punch the spy in the face that Optimus felt like he needed to intercede.

“Thank you, officers, for your assistance. I can take it from here.” Prime faced the pinched looks of most of the Autobots that were on Earth. Many rumors had been swirling around about Jazz and Prowl’s conspicuous absence from them joining the Decepticons, to being undercover, to them becoming Neutrals and starting a family of sparklings somewhere. Optimus wasn’t sure the truth was any better than these alternatives.

“I have received two messages from Jazz and Prowl. They are alive,” he said. There were sighs of relief and a few murmurs throughout the room. “However, their situation is grave. They, along with Starscream and Soundwave, have been captured and forced into serving the Quintessons for entertainment.”

The room was deathly silent.

“…how are they faring?” Bluestreak asked, his vocalizer weak.

“They are doing the best they can, but things are tough. It appears they have called a truce of some kind and are working together to try and win their freedom.”

There were a few mutterings about it being a Decepticon plot as that could not possibly be true. Optimus held a servo up to silence them, and exvented. “We are obviously trying to mount a rescue mission, but it is only in the planning stages now.” Prime sighed. “I would also be remiss in not telling any mechs involved in a rescue attempt that Jazz has resigned his position and has declared himself a Neutral.”

 _This_ stirred outrage as many of them stood and started shouting immediately. Optimus stole a glance at Mirage who looked contemplative and met his optics after a moment. He likely had gathered why Jazz had done this and was likely going to try and be a dissenting vote against a rescue. Optimus sighed.

“He doesn’t want us to try and engage the Quintessons. But we cannot abandon him, even if he is a Neutral,” he said. He noticed Red Alert share a look with Mirage. That was likely trouble brewing already. 

“Do we even know where they are?” Bumblebee asked.

“We don’t know. We can assume that Soundwave and Starscream contacted Megatron, so we might be able to trade information with him, if he is cooperative. But know this,” he said putting on his best “Prime” look in his optics. “We do not leave _any_ Cybertronian behind to suffer at the hands of the Quintessons. There was a time where we were all united against them as our common foe. Freedom is the right of all-“

“-sentient beings,” everyone in the room finished with him, almost like a benediction. He smiled under his faceplate.

“Dismissed.”

The hall emptied loud with the chatter and conversations of everyone. One mech remained behind.

“Skyfire, how can I help you?” Optimus said, regarding the shuttle.

“What you said before about Soundwave and Starscream calling Megatron?” he said. Optimus nodded. “Not… completely true.”

Optimus arched an optic-ridge.

“It seems that Starscream chose me to call,” Skyfire said, seemingly embarrassed.

Optimus was surprised. He knew that Skyfire and Starscream had a history, but he was more than a little surprised based on the nature of Jazz and Prowl’s calls. He would have bet shanix on Starscream calling Megatron to insult him, even if it was the last time.

“What was the nature of the call?”

“He insulted me,” Skyfire replied.

Ah. Right context, wrong mech.

“Well, I am about to go call Megatron to see if he will share information. I’m… going to need you there, Skyfire.”

Skyfire nodded, but then frowned deeper. “Optimus. He was trying to say… goodbye.”

Optimus gave the shuttle a hard look and then nodded, indicating that Skyfire should follow him to the communications room.

* * *

“I am not really in the mood, Prime.”

“That makes two of us, Megatron,” Optimus said. 

Skyfire thought he was more than a little outranked by the mechs on this call. He wasn’t exactly important, and he didn’t really want to get dragged into their squabbling.

But yet again, it was Starscream that was throwing him into the middle of the action. He stifled a sigh.

“I’m guessing you recently received a transmission from Soundwave?” Megatron’s optics suddenly looked more curious than annoyed. “We received one from Jazz, Prowl, and… Starscream.”

“Starscream?!” Megatron bellowed. “That insufferable, traitorous wretch! Did he call you, Prime? Whisper secrets in your audios?”

Optimus looked taken aback. “Erm, no. He called Skyfire.”

“Ah,” Megatron said, relaxing a little. “Traitors calling traitors. Sounds about right.” Skyfire scowled but said nothing.

“Megatron, I was hoping we could come to an arrangement to share information. I want to rescue my mechs, but I’m not even sure where to start.”

Megatron looked like he was considering this. “You intend to go fight the Quintessons,” he said levelly. “I thought your fight was with me.”

Optimus’s stare hardened at the warlord on the display. “ _They_ are the bigger threat,” he challenged.

Skyfire resisted rolling his optics at the posturing going on. There was a reason he wasn’t really invited to become an officer. He didn’t have patience for either leader’s bravado. 

Megatron huffed his vents. “Fine. I can agree there is nothing I wouldn’t do to stop the Quintessons; even consider working with you.” Megatron made a smile that could curdle energon. “And while I don’t doubt our ability to unite against a common foe, I only doubt the depth of your conviction to do what needs to be done.”

“There can be no peace with the Quintessons. Of this I am sure.”

“No quarter?” Megatron asked with a murderous glint in his optic.

“No clemency. No mercy,” Optimus said with finality.

It’s no wonder these two had been at war for so long. Still, Skyfire didn’t particularly like the Quintessons either, but seeing Optimus and Megatron agree like this was… chilling.

“And besides if they think they can just pluck us from the battlefield to serve as their entertainment without repercussions, we’ll be fighting them all the time,” Optimus continued.

“I don’t disagree with you. What info did you get from your mechs?”

Optimus explained about the arena, winning, and rewards. Megatron had a similar tale from Soundwave. Skyfire had felt his fuel tanks lurch since some of these finer details he had been unaware of; things Starscream had failed to mention. And Starscream had just called to say he hated him? How petty _was_ the seeker? Primus.

“It’s been hard on them. I can judge my men pretty well and they aren’t doing well, but they are doing the best they can. They made a temporary truce to keep each other alive,” Optimus finished.

“A necessary evil,” Megatron said, his optics dancing in the dim light of his base. “Soundwave explained they severed his bonds with his cassettes as a way to make things fair. Likely intending to prevent us from locating them.”

“You think that’s why?”

“If the cassettes still had their bond, then yes we would at least have a heading as to where they are located. I am of the opinion that if they were well-defended, they wouldn’t care about being found. This smacks of them trying to hide.”

“That could be a boon for us,” Optimus agreed.

Megatron looked thoughtfully at Optimus for a moment, then said, “Soundwave also managed to send a large data burst of encrypted information. It’s taking us quite a bit of time to decode it. We would welcome your assistance.”

Optimus tilted his helm a little. “We are few codexes behind in Decepticon encryption. Especially without our spymaster,” he replied.

“He didn’t send it in Decepticon encryption. He sent it in Golden Age Era encryption.”

Optimus seemed surprised and then impressed. “He hoped you would share it so that we could help. To work with us.”

“That is what he was asking in subtext, yes.” Megatron then turned his gaze towards the silent shuttle. “What about… Starscream? What did he say? Any worthwhile information he imparted?”

Skyfire reset his vocalizer. “Uhm, well. He mostly insulted me. And then said ….goodbye.”

Megatron stared at him for a moment with an unreadable expression on his faceplate. 

“‘Goodbye?’”

“He said he didn’t think he’d have another chance to do it,” Skyfire said, maybe with a small crack in his vocalizer. He sighed. “I didn’t understand what was happening. He just calls me and starts to berate me as usual-“

“As usual?” both Megatron and Optimus said in unison. 

Skyfire frowned. “He… sometimes comms me to berate me. Usually after a lot of high grade.”

Megatron rolled his optics, but Optimus looked thoughtful. “You didn’t think to tell us?”

Skyfire glanced sideways at the Prime. “The content of these comms wasn’t relevant,” he said finally. “Regardless, this call was similar. He called me names, brought up all the old arguments we’ve ever had. It might have been a touch more vicious than usual, especially since he brought up my thesis and insulted my findings-“

Skyfire stopped talking as if he had stalled.

“Skyfire?”

“That… son of a glitch,” Skyfire breathed. “That _son_ of a _glitch!”_ He said smiling widely, meeting Optimus’s optics. He went to the computer and started typing away quickly.

“Skyfire! What in Primus-“

“I need a map. A big one. Primus. He told me where they are!” Skyfire nearly shouted. 

Again, oddly in tune with each other, both Megatron and Optimus said, “What?”  
  
“He told me. I’m such a fool for not figuring it out until now,” Skyfire said regretfully. “He mentioned my thesis from the academy; it was on a specific binary star system in a strangely opaque oort cloud. It’s like a cloud of icy planetesimals… erm, cosmic dust, proposed to surround a star system, marking the boundary of the star’s gravitational influence. It’s usually a great place for comets to be born-“ Skyfire then stopped himself seeing both of the leaders’ optics glaze over. He cleared his vocalizer. “Anyway – whatever planets might be in this particular system would be hidden. And it’s near Cybertron.”

“How would he know? I assume they would never be able to see sky to get that frame of reference, especially if they were going to let them call us. Especially Starscream,” Megatron said.

Skyfire couldn’t help but grin. “Both Starscream and I have a sub-plating low frequency navigational array from when we were explorers. It’s so low tech and quiet; it won’t look any different from an EM field. They might not have noticed it was there.”

The three of them paused, letting the silence settle across their processors. "This could be a trap as well," Optimus said, lowly. "They might want us to come."

Megatron grinned wickedly. "I would hate to disappoint them." Then after a beat, "Let’s discuss the terms of our truce.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little bit of denouement as we tie up some threads a little for ya ;) Take a breath! We got some more spicy games and tasty angst coming up :D


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the skipped update last week- had an event last weekend and didn't quite have time to write. 
> 
> Gonna start to reveal some secrets soon, but we DO have more games to play along the way :D Thanks as always for your comments! <3

The next morning, they waited for Artuz to show up to take Starscream away, but he never showed. Their internal chronos indicated that it was now past noon, but Starscream merely shrugged, seemingly relieved. They all agreed that it was still very, very odd though. The Quintessons hadn’t really failed to follow through on something that they had promised in advance. 

It made them think something was wrong.

Artuz eventually showed up in the afternoon, all warbling platitudes and wiggling appendages. Without comment on why he was late, he started telling them about how their next challenge would start immediately.

“You said we would have two extra days,” Jazz said flatly. “It’s not over yet.”

Artuz bowed in recognition. “Yes, _apologies_ , dears. Some things. Have. Erm, escalated,” he said, turning slightly towards Starscream. “We need to take you to your next arena. Now.” Artuz sighed.

The four Cybertronians exchanged quick looks. Something was clearly wrong. 

“Your next challenge will be to survive. The environment will not be kind to you, and you will have other participants competing for the same resources. But you will perform _excellently_ I am sure,” Artuz said nodding. 

“Artuz,” Jazz said quietly. “You have been so kind to us so far. We… greatly appreciate your help,” he said with a kind smile. The Quintesson looked a little shocked.

“It’s true, master,” Starscream added. “We could not have gotten this far without your assistance.”

The Quintesson nodded mutely, his tentacles turning a slightly different color. Was that a flush of embarrassment?

“Y-you will follow me,” their small handler stammered out. Jazz threw Starscream a glance, and they shared small smirk.

* * *

The arena was huge, similar to the cityscape they had seen on their first mission. This time, however, it was full of organic foliage, not unlike the jungles of Earth.

Without the dramatic preamble they had grown accustomed to during their time as Quintesson entertainment, they were thrown into the arena and just told they had to survive until they were picked back up again.

A strange flash of light bathed over them, and the four Cybertronians felt a small wave of nausea but the feeling passed quickly.

“So… that’s it? Just go and survive?” Jazz asked, looking around into the deep jungle.

“Quintessons: Never that simple,” Soundwave said.

“What do you think he meant ‘escalated?’” Prowl asked, throwing a look to Starscream.

The seeker squinted his optics a little in thought. “I… might have an idea of what that’s about,” he said smirking, his wings flicking back. 

“Care to explain?” Jazz said.

Starscream flicked his wings and gave Jazz a knowing look. “Well. They are trying to arrange a call with Megatron, but for some reason that didn’t happen. Possibly because they can’t _find_ him. And if they can’t find him, it might be because he doesn’t want to be found.”

“Because something is happening,” Prowl added, barely able to contain his smirk.

“A small and distant hope,” Jazz said quietly.

“Proposal: Move forward and seek advantages. Discuss more later,” Soundwave said, starting to move forward into the undergrowth.

The other three Cybertronians followed quietly.

The emerald green undergrowth was thick and kept catching on the doorwings and wings of the Cybertronians as they walked. Vines and branches swatted them in the faceplates and tangled their pedes. The air was cool and smelled of damp mingled with the slight decay of a forested jungle. Starscream was complaining, but only half-heartedly, as if he knew it was expected of him and he was merely fulfilling the role.

It would have been beautiful if they didn’t think pain and suffering was waiting around every corner for them. There wasn’t much sound of a typical forest, just artificial wind rustling the tops of the canopies. Starscream occasionally looked up for a clear few of their fake sky, but only the occasional peak could be seen. The seeker also commented that it was odd that the organic trees and plants were as large as they were; on most organic worlds, organic growths usually didn’t get this large to dwarf a combiner if they had been standing there with them. Even the leaves here looked like they would completely cover their faceplates.

It had started to rain, which made their misery increase. Paths through the organic forest that were once solid packed dirt now ran with water and mud. Their seeker grew quiet but grimaced more often.

They decided to rest beside a stream, taking a moment to take stock of their situation. There had been very little instructions other than to survive, which would mean securing energon and a safe place to recharge would be paramount.

Soundwave was even more quiet than usual and kept glancing at Starscream. Jazz and Prowl had both noticed, and Prowl suggested that he and Starscream do a perimeter check while the other two rested.

“Something wrong with our seeker?” Jazz asked once they were out of earshot.

Soundwave dimmed his visor, clenching his fist. “Negative,” was the answer. “Amended,” he added after a few moments. “Something _will_ be wrong with Starscream. Soon.”

Jazz processed this revelation carefully. Soundwave had been characteristically quiet during their entire capture, but Jazz had suspected it had a lot more to do with the tape-deck’s past and proximity to Quintessons and less to do with his personality. Jazz had a deep-seated respect for his rival spymaster, and he often felt like he was playing a grand espionage game with the blue mech more than any other Decepticon.

So when he saw the tape-deck’s frame sag a little, he felt his curiosity increase.

“You know something.”

Soundwave actually seemed _nervous_.

“Quintessons: Desire me to tell him.”

“Tell him what?”

“Their plans.”

Jazz’s optics narrowed behind his visor. “You know what they are planning? Why haven’t you told us?”

Soundwave sighed, looking down. “Jazz: Incorrect. Soundwave did not understand that Quintessons wanted to replicate the same treatment that-“ but he was cut off by the distinct sound of yelling from Prowl and Starscream.

The two spymasters jumped into the undergrowth as fast as they could move.

* * *

It was a giant mechanimal towering over Prowl and Starscream by at least twice their height. Its plating was white and it had a giant, gaping maw that was salivating and drooling lubricant onto the ground as it considered its prey.

Starscream looked like he was itching to jump into the air, but the creature was too close, and it had large talons that looked they could easily swat him down in a moment. Prowl was trying to figure out if the creature had any weaknesses when they heard the crashing of pedefalls from Jazz and Soundwave. 

The creature turned its attention to them and then went in for the attack.

Jazz rolled to the left. Soundwave did not have enough time to do the same and instead held up his servos to catch the top and bottom of the creature’s jaw and hold it there. Its barbed tongue lashed against his frame, but Soundwave held strong.

Starscream alighted into the air, using his thrusters to try and burn the creature, but it seemed impervious. Snarling in frustration, Starscream used his thrusters to get momentum into a spinning kick. The creature gave a piercing shriek that grated their audios but still it pushed forward, trying to close its jaw around the blue mech holding it back.

Prowl and Jazz had managed to gather some thick vines. Prowl braced himself with his knees bent, his servos laced together in front of him. With practiced grace, Jazz jumped and landed his pede into Prowl’s waiting servos. Prowl was then able to vault Jazz into the air and onto the creature’s back. Using the vines, Jazz and Prowl were able to wrap them around the creature’s mouth and start to pull. 

Starscream gave another kick, distracting the creature again, giving Soundwave the time he needed to throw the jaw of teeth away from him and roll away to safety. Jazz tied the vines tightly around the creature, and it attempted to pull the vines off its face but was unable to do so. It whined and began to run off into the woods. Jazz flipped off and landed handily next to Soundwave on the ground who was now flexing his servos to try and get feeling back into them.

“Survive is right,” Jazz said with a smile. Starscream rolled his optics as he landed next to Soundwave and pulled him back to his pedes.

* * *

They kept walking in relative silence, determined not to split up again. They had yet to see another creature or another set of participants, or even the evidence of them. The rain picked up and so they sought out some shelter. 

There was a shallow cave that looked like it could afford some temporary respite from the storm. They sat down in silence and stared out at the storm for a little while.

Jazz moved and then cuddled with Prowl, murmuring some things in his audio that made the Praxian smirk. Starscream watched them with something like wistfulness. Soundwave in turn watched Starscream, carefully.

The seeker began to notice.

Starscream stood and stretched and then sat down quite close to Soundwave. He stared at the tape-deck expectantly and then rolled his optics and sighed. “Why do you keep looking at me?”

Soundwave looked away at the rain. “Soundwave: Watching Starscream for Megatron.”

The seeker was biting the inside of his cheek as he drew his knees up. “I… miss him,” he admitted, looking out at the rain. “I didn’t think I could. But I do.”

“Your relationship is complicated,” Soundwave observed. “It defies definition.”

Starscream snorted. “Sometimes I wish it could be… simpler,” he said throwing another glance at Prowl and Jazz, who were now leaning against each other in light recharge.

Soundwave wondered if the seeker really did want something simpler with Megatron. He was not unaware of that the relationship that had developed over the millennia was more than just loud disagreements and attempted assassinations. Megatron and he were physically damaging of each other probably about as much as they were physically intimate.

The tape-deck had always stood poised to dispose of the seeker should Megatron grow bored of him. Soundwave had often thought the seeker had only rose to his rank because of Megatron’s ill-placed affection for him, and eventually, Megatron would realize his mistake. Soundwave would have been eager to fulfill any wish the warlord asked of him, but _especially_ if it meant that the treacherous second-in-command was taken out of the equation.

But the order never came. Megatron took to disciplining Starscream personally, and then would also coddle him afterwards, whispering platitudes and offering soft caresses far away from the optics and audios of the army. Yet Soundwave had seen. Soundwave knew. Megatron desired the seeker, and Soundwave struggled daily not to hold it against the warlord.

But he had never considered what Starscream wanted out of it, other than possibly a vain grab of ambition. Soundwave now regretted much of his past resentment.

Starscream turned his gaze back to the tape-deck. “What about you?”

Soundwave gave a look to the Autobot couple. “Soundwave: Lives for cassettes.”

The seeker nodded as if he expected this response. “I’m sure they’re okay. Especially Ravage. She’ll make sure the rest of them will stay safe.”

“Her creator was beautiful,” Soundwave said, smiling behind his faceplate.

Starscream froze slightly, probably realizing what he had just said. The seeker had likely suspected that Soundwave was not the creator of all his cassettes, though it didn’t seem to lessen his devotion to them in any sense. “And the others?”

“Laserbeak as well, her creator was so intelligent and quick-witted. Similar to you,” Soundwave said. His vocalizer was almost… fond. “But only Rumble and Frenzy came from my spark,” he said quietly. “The Quintesson Judge who killed their creators is dead.”

Starscream said nothing, as the memory that Soundwave had shared to him earlier in their ordeal spoke volumes. Starscream would understand why Soundwave had phrased the sentence the way he had as well. The Quintessons might have pulled back their presence here in this arena, but they were always listening.

“I’m… sorry what they did to you,” Starscream said quietly. He allowed his shoulder to slump against Soundwave’s. 

Soundwave wondered if this was the moment where he explained that they wanted to do the same to the seeker.

But he felt Starscream fall into recharge beside him and knew the moment had passed.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for violence, we're taking it up a notch here.
> 
> Apologies for the wait!

On day five in the forest, they finally had run into other participants in the games.

“Mmm, _Cybertronians_ ,” the leader said. “Was wondering when we’d run into you.” The speaker was a tall, impossibly thin creature with stick-like legs that jutted out from its body like knives. Its body was a cyan, and its armor was white. The leader and its compatriots stood a good three helms taller than the Cybertronians.

Said Cybertronians were a little put out at the moment. They had been chased by the white mechanimal for the past day-cycle, barely having enough time to rest and recharge. They were also extremely low on fuel, not having found any type of energon.

They weren’t really feeling this whole intimidation thing at the moment.

“Yeah so we going to fight or something?” Jazz asked, falling into a battle stance. “We’re kind of in a hurry.” Soundwave and Prowl fell into a formation of a kind on either side of him with Starscream directly behind, poised to jump into the air. They were actually getting decent at fighting like a unit.

A very strange, morally-patchworked unit. But it was keeping them alive.

The leader of the strange creatures smiled. “Sounds like you are _hungry_ too, I’d imagine. Looks like you haven’t figured it out yet,” he said. It brought his cyan colored hands and clasped them in front of himself. “I would like to trade information, if you are willing. We can tell you how to get fuel. In return we want to ask a question of Soundwave.”

Jazz relaxed. Even if this was a trap, he wanted to give the impression that he was entertaining the idea. “Truces haven’t exactly gone well for us so far in these games,” he said, with Starscream snorting behind him.

“Then allow me to be the first to offer my side of the bargain in good faith. See these trees? They hold your sustenance in them. You have to find one marked with your planet’s symbol since there are so many of us in here with different needs- ah this one. I believe this is the symbol for Cybertron?” he said pointing to a small brand in the tree. Jazz noticed that in fact there was a small ancient glyph for Cybertron.

“We’ll even give you one of our taps,” the creature said, throwing Jazz a metal tube with a sharp end. Jazz inspected it then handed it to Soundwave who walked over to the tree and stabbed it into the rough bark of the tree. After a few seconds, energon began to flow out of the end and onto the ground. The tape-deck ran a finger over the energon to test it. Satisfied, he nodded.

“It seems we owe you then,” Jazz said, adding a bright smile to his lips. “Feel free to ask you question.”

The leader turned to Soundwave. “You were a court reporter for the Quintessons, were you not? Do you still have those records?”

Soundwave seemed surprised by the question. “Affirmative,” he replied. Prowl and Starscream walked over and used their servos to cup some of the flowing energon to refuel.

“We believe you might have been on Case #2812-AKQ. We were wondering if you could tell us the result of that case.”

Soundwave tilted his helm in curiosity. “Case #2812-AKQ, the State versus the Ambudektron Republic. Holding: The Ambudektron Republic violated the Quintesson Authority by trying to escape culling and flee off planet. Ambudektron was sentenced to destruction, and the sentence was carried out shortly after the ruling.”

The four creatures gradually deflated with each new piece of information that Soundwave revealed, to the point that one of them had fallen to their knees in grief. 

Jazz was horrified. “Have you been here all this time? 12 million years?”

The leader nodded without raising his eyes. The other creatures picked up their compatriot off the ground and turned to leave. “We appreciate this knowledge. Good luck, Cybertronians.”

“You as well,” Jazz said quietly as they walked away.

* * *

Prowl and Soundwave looked up the sides of the deep stone hole they had fallen into. Prowl frowned. 

They could hear the vicious cursing of Jazz and Starscream as they insulted each other and the mechanimal they were fighting.

“You were _supposed_ to be doing recon, _seeker_ , you have those stupid wings of yours-”

“Forgive me, _Jazz_ ; you stupid grounders took the wrong way around the creature and it must have caught your scent,” Starscream said, grunting as he gave a flying kick to the giant white mechanimal, similar to the one they had fought before.

Jazz growled angrily as he barely avoided a swipe from the creature’s claws. It had been attempting to swat at Starscream but had missed, and nearly gotten Jazz instead. “ _Watch_ it-”

“Dodge _better_ ,” Starscream drawled, flying over to the hole and grabbing Soundwave’s arm to pull him out. Prowl waited patiently, and Soundwave gave him a little half-hearted wave. Prowl stifled a laugh.

Starscream threw Soundwave into the air, and the tape-deck landed on the back of the creature and started going to work punching the creature into submission.

Starscream flew back and pulled Prowl out next and hefted him out as well. The former enforcer landed with a flourish and ran over to Jazz to help take some of the attention from the creature. Starscream turned to attack again only to be swatted by a giant claw and flung away. His back crashed into a tree.

The creature crowed and made to attack Starscream when Soundwave finally breached it’s plating and was pulling out wires coated in internal fluids and lubricants.

The creature cried out in pain, falling to the ground. It twitched as it died painfully. Prowl was scowling but jumped up to help Soundwave pull out more wires and tubes to try and hasten the creature to death.

Jazz walked over to Starscream who was still a little dazed and shaking his helm, trying to clear the dizziness. “ _You_ dodge better,” he said laughing and offering a servo to help the seeker up.

“Aft,” Starscream said, but smiled back.

* * *

They had decided to make a fire not really for warmth but to try and heat up some tools they had found to try and fix some of the dents in their armor. They reluctantly missed the androids that came and would repair them after every match.

Starscream and Prowl had fallen into recharge next to each other and were practically cuddling. They were on their sides facing each other, with Prowl’s helm tucked under Starscream’s chin. The seeker shifted and his servo rested lighting on Prowl’s arm as they slept. 

Jazz was amused and could not wait for one of them to wake up and notice the position they were in. Soundwave too looked amused, given the glitter of his visor. The visor also dimmed for a moment, indicating that he might have taken a still image of the scene. Jazz gave a toothy grin and shook his helm, looking up at the dark fake sky overhead.

* * *

“This game is stupid,” Starscream said as he sipped his energon cupped in his servo.

“You’re only saying that because I told you it’s a human game,” Jazz said. “And besides, it’s a way to get to know each other.”

“I know you all better than I would _care_ to-”

“Soundwave: will play,” the tape deck said.

Starscream gave his fellow Decepticon a withering look. “Of course you will,” he said. “Fine. You go first, _Jazz_.”

“Never have I ever shot at Megatron _in the back_ ,” he said with a grin.

Starscream for his part didn’t look the least bit guilty as he sipped. Prowl also took a sip.

Prowl then said, “Never have I ever almost caused world destruction.”

“You’re just trying to get me over-energized,” Starscream said sipping with a light glare. Soundwave shrugged and also sipped. “Never have I ever had a human in my processor,” he said, arching an optic-ridge.

Prowl sipped with a smile. “He was very nice about it,” he said laughing.

“Soundwave: Never has used attack called ‘Sound and Light Show.’”

Jazz stuck out his glossa and then grinned happily as he slurped his energon.

* * *

Soundwave dodged as the mech attempted a very powerful right-hook. There was considerablee force behind as the air was displaced around it, and the tape-deck would have been in trouble had it landed. Soundwave then dropped to a crouch and sprung up from the ground with an uppercut punch, right under the mech’s jaw. Worked perfectly. His combatant went down for the count.

Starscream trying to jump into the air, but his attacker kept managing to get in too close and grapple with him. Starscream managed a good kick, but the mech was able to catch his pede. Starscream then jumped to kick with his other leg, flipping backwards and freeing his pede. His combatant staggered backwards with a snarl.

Jazz and Prowl were back to back with their attackers circling them and taking jabs. Finally, one managed to grab Prowl’s wrist. The mech turned him and had him in a hold around the neck with his arm. The mech pulled out a knife and held it to the Praxian’s throat.

“HEY now, slow down-” Jazz said, his vocalizer a little uneven. He held out his servos in a placating way.

Both Starscream and Soundwave noticed the situation and tried not to make any sudden movements.

“What do you want? We don’t have any weapons, or anything-”

“We just wanted to say _hi_ ,” said the mech. “Heard a lot about you all from the display.”

Jazz smiled. “Hi. Pleasure to meet you,” he said, even as his spark was beating in his audials.

The gray mech pushed the throat closer to Prowl’s neck. “Your interview seemed to suggest you two were _together_.”

Jazz swallowed. “Can’t help who the Quintesson’s decided to drag here.”

“But I mean if I never get to see my bonded again, why should you?” the mech said leering. 

“We’re not-”

And the knife sliced through the soft protoflesh of Prowl’s perfect throat. Energon immediately welled out of the wound.

Sound disappeared and all Jazz could see were the pained blue optics of Prowl. They were full of regret and watching him. Why were they full of regret? Did he regret his relationship with him? It certainly seemed that was the reason why he had just had his neck slashed. 

He wouldn’t blame him. Jazz was so much the opposite of Prowl, and he had never understood why the brooding military strategist had every given him the time of day. It had taken Jazz _months_ to convince the enforcer that he wasn’t messing around and it wasn’t some elaborate prank. Jazz always felt like he kept messing up and Prowl was so patient with him.

This was one of those failures you couldn’t walk back.

He _should_ have been able to talk the mech out of this. He was a negotiator; he was a spy. He had a silver glossa and could convince a mech of almost anything he wanted to. Jazz was losing his touch.

Jazz numbly watched as Soundwave knocked the knife out of the gray mech’s servos, and Starscream caught Prowl in his arms and quickly put pressure on the wound. Prowl’s servos were twitching and Starscream grabbed one of them and pushed it up against Prowl’s throat to help put pressure on it as the seeker tried to reach in and tie off the energon lines that were broken.

Soundwave was summarily beating the gray mech within an inch of his life. It appeared his companions had left him behind.

Soundwave was now filling Jazz’s vision. At some point, Jazz had fallen to his knees, and Soundwave was roughly picking him off the ground. He shook him a little and sound was coming back quickly. 

He heard the sputtering gasps of Prowl, the cursing of Starscream, the labored breathing of the gray mech on the ground. 

He saw that Soundwave was holding out a knife and offering it to Jazz.

Jazz’s face darkened.

He took the knife, grabbed the pede of the gray mech, and pulled him a little distance away.

Soundwave watched silently and without comment.

* * *

Prowl was recharging quietly, and Starscream gently checked the make-shift leaf bandages on his throat. They were no longer bleeding through, and Starscream believed that they had avoided losing him.

They had relocated to a small hollow inside a tree that was big enough for the four of them to fit inside. Starscream had just wanted to find a place that was dry to help aid Prowl’s healing. 

Soundwave stood watch outside, waiting for Jazz to return.

Starscream leaned his back and wings up against the sides of the hollow, trying to relax. He pulled his knees up and let his helm fall forward, exhausted from trying to save the Autobot’s life. His servos were still sticky with energon but he wasn’t ready to leave Prowl alone yet to try and clean them.

The Praxian stirred. He wheezed a little and his optics burst open and looked around wildly, settling on Starscream. The seeker leaned forward and put a calming servo on his forehead, nodding. “You’re going to be okay,” he said gently. 

Prowl attempted to speak and found he could not.

Starscream’s optics dimmed in rare sympathy. 

_Jazz_ , Prowl mouthed, though the movement strained his neck injury and he winced.

Starscream tried to keep his face impassive and nodded in understanding. “I’ll get Soundwave to go find him,” he said looking out into the clearing. The tape-deck had heard his name and peered in, his visor meeting Starscream’s optics.

“Find Jazz, will you,” Starscream said, giving him a look.

Soundwave paused a moment then nodded, turning around and jogging away.

Prowl gasped again as a wave of pain flowed over him. Starscream placed a servo on his shoulder, trying to steady him. “You know, I never thought in my wildest dreams that I would be the one to stop you from bleeding out,” the seeker said with a laugh. “You were always so annoying on the battlefield, with that processor of yours.”

Prowl grimaced but the tug of a smile was at the corner of his mouth. He shivered with another wave of pain.

Jazz suddenly appeared, quietly slipping into the hollow. Starscream was slightly unnerved that he hadn’t heard him coming. Jazz knelt down and pushed his forehead onto Prowl’s and closed his optics. “Gave us a scare there, Prowler,” he said smiling. Prowl’s frame visibly relaxed at the sound of Jazz’s voice.

Starscream glanced at Soundwave who was sporting a small injury on his forearm. He lifted his chin when he saw the seeker’s gaze.

Starscream looked back to Jazz. “His vocalizer is offline. I’ve done the best I can to repair the damage and stop the bleeding, but I don’t know about his voice,” he said quietly. “I’ll just… be out there,” he said getting up to leave.

Jazz flung out his servo to catch Starscream’s wrist. Impossibly fast.

He looked up at Starscream with his blue visor, and Starscream could see the optics behind it staring back at him intensely.

“I am in your debt,” he said quietly.

Starscream swallowed and nodded. “Call me if his bandages bleed through.”

The seeker left the hollow and stood by Soundwave, holding out his servo expectantly for the arm. He quietly patched it with some leftover leaf bandages he had made. He gave a curious look to the tape-deck.

“Soundwave: startled Jazz,” he said by way of explanation.

Starscrem nodded. He then looked up at Soundwave. “Did he-”

“Affirmative,” Soundwave replied.

Starscream stared back at the hollow, his optics narrowing. “Good.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is the angstiest chapter yet, so prepare yourselves, it is not pretty. Much thanks to [@Tacytacs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tackytacs/pseuds/tackytacs) for a read through for a reaction and give some suggestions.
> 
> Warning for talking about past abuse (implied sexual) and the dread of what is possibly coming. 

“Right and the up-flick is kind of like a ‘frag you’ kind of motion,” Starscream was explaining to Prowl. “I do it all the time to Megatron, but he definitely has never learned to read wings.”

“Debatable,” Soundwave interjected as he knelt by a stream and washed his faceplate.

“He… hasn’t. Has he?” Starscream asked worriedly. Prowl was smirking.

Soundwave merely turned, giving Starscream a quiet look, then went back to washing his servos and arms.

“Anyway,” Starscream said, glaring at Soundwave and then going back to his pupil. “And a flick back is kind of like a greeting.” Starscream demonstrated, and Prowl copied in kind.

The seeker’s faceplate changed a little. “I hope I don’t regret teaching some of this to you,” he said ruefully. Prowl shrugged with a mischievous smile. “Praxians really don’t use doorwings to communicate at all?”

Prowl shrugged, his servos and digits signing glyphs in the air to spell out the words. _Never a need._

“I suppose not,” Starscream said. “In the air things can get loud with the wind, and can be easier than talking in comms. And maybe we use it more because our wings are… bigger?” Starscream said looking at Prowl’s doorwings with a look not far from pitying.

_Up-flick._

Starscream smiled widely. “Now you’re getting it.”

* * *

Prowl and Soundwave had arrived at an agreement for efficiency that Soundwave was allowed to read the thoughts on the periphery of his mind if he could not make himself understood quickly enough. Jazz had expressed his displeasure at this arrangement, and even Starscream had seemed a little trepidacious. It violated some kind of interfactional taboo that still existed between them.

Prowl had found it an interesting exercise in practicing discipline of his mind. In very little time, the two of them had picked up an almost silent form of communication that allowed them to sneak up on mechanimals and rival combatants with a high rate of success. They were very interested in the numbers they were getting.

Starscream and Jazz were left to loud complaining and loud sighs as the Autobot and Decepticon became closer. Prowl and Soundwave though were amused though because of the four of them, Jazz and Starscream were talking the most, even if it was bickering.

* * *

Jazz pulled Prowl close to him giving him a kiss on the forehead. Their “nest” as Starscream had called it was actually quite comfortable, filled with moss and leaf litter to ease their aching joints a little. Said seeker was asleep next to Jazz, sprawled out in a quite undignified fashion. 

_Are you ok?_ Prowl signed between them.

Jazz smiled. “You ask me that every night.”

_I promise I’m ok Jazz. Not your fault._

Jazz’s mouth twitched a little, and he grimaced. Jazz wasn’t sure he was ready to ask the questions that had been haunting his processor since the attack. He’d been keeping his field tight and trying to avoid deeper conversations by doing patrols with the other two.

“Prowl,” he said, shifting uncomfortably, feeling the words fall out of his mouth unbidden. “When he… when the mech hurt you? You looked so… full of remorse. I… can’t get that look out of my processor.”

Prowl paused, his optics looking straight ahead into Jazz’s collar plating. 

Jazz held his intakes, not sure what exactly Prowl was going to tell him next, but he wasn’t sure he was ready to hear it.

 _Regret,_ Prowl started. Hesitating. _I was regretting that you had to watch me die._

Jazz exvented and then pulled Prowl closer into a crushing hug and just held him as he silently sobbed with relief. Prowl was petting his helm and lightly kissing him.

Starscream slunk out quietly without the couple noticing.

* * *

Soundwave was sitting outside under the fake moon that sometimes lit the sky above them. There were also fake stars shining down at them. Starscream said he didn’t recognize them and gave derisively vivid details as to what he thought they looked like: from spattering of energon to flecks of transfluid against an inky black background.

He was charming. Deep down.

Soundwave’s reverie was interrupted by the appearance of the object of his thoughts. His red and white plating almost glowed from the moon shining down on him, like a grand cape of light draping across his shoulders.

“Seems like the lovebirds have finally talked about their _feelings_ ,” he said irritably. He had clearly been awoken from a deep recharge.

Soundwave nodded. “Positive change,” the tape-deck said, watching Starscream carefully.

The seeker came over and plopped down next to him, leaning into him for some warmth. The four of them had grown quite close during this game, and physical contact between them had become common and even sometimes welcomed.

Starscream yawned. “Not if you are trying to recharge,” he said. “Think they’re gonna frag next; got out of there just in time.”

Soundwave huffed his vents leaning into the seeker as well. 

Starscream sighed. “How long have we been in this game now?”

Soundwave checked his chronometer. “Almost an Earth year,” he replied.

“That long?” Starscream said. The seeker shifted a little against him. “Do you think they’re still coming to rescue us?”

Soundwave wrapped an arm around Starscream. “Nothing will stop Megatron.”

Starscream nodded looking up at the sky.

This was the moment then, Soundwave decided. He had let it gnaw away at him this entire time, causing him to wonder why he was putting himself through the suffering. Every time he saw the seeker, he felt a pang of guilt in his tanks, and he hated it.

He also hated doing what the Quintessons wanted, but he saw little choice now. 

He removed his usual speech encoder, deactivating the syntax he had adopted all those years ago as a court reporter. He could not risk being misunderstood.

“Starscream,” Soundwave said. “I need to tell you something,” he said, feeling his spark quicken in his chest. “Remember the memories I shared with you?”

Starscream nodded, slowly and suspiciously.

“Unlike the Senate, the Quintessons thought outlier abilities were _entertaining_. When they discovered my ability, they were pleased. They wanted more telepaths.”

“Soundwave-” Starscream said, quietly, as if trying to stop the conversation.

“My spark,” Soundwave said and then stopped. “They forced me to split my spark far too many times, Starscream. I had many other creations other than Rumble and Frenzy, but they are the only two I ever found again.”

Starscream had grabbed his servo into his and was holding it. As if he needed the comforting.

“They would take the new-sparks and put them into waiting frames, and then start the process over again. They didn’t want the trouble of the randomness of Vector Sigma, and hoped that by focusing on me and forcing me to create, the CNA from me would give them the desired bots they wanted,” he continued bitterly, his vocalizer becoming raw. He exvented.

“The Quintessons wanted me to let you know, Starscream. They desire more seekers.”

Starscream froze. “Then they can make some,” he said, hesitant and fearful. “Just like they used to,” he said bitterly.

Soundwave held Starscream closer. “But they like _you_.”

Starscream was trembling and shaking his helm. “No,” he whispered. “No, no, no,” he said trying to pull out of Soundwave’s hold. Soundwave held firm.

“I’m sorry,” Soundwave said. “I’m… so, so sorry.”­­

“ _What?_ ” Starscream whispered, horrified. “I won’t- I’ll… _can’t-”_ Starscream began to choke on his words. “They want me to make _sparklings?!”_

“It’s why they were asking about your previous relationships. They want to know if they will have your first. Because your first will fetch a high price-”

Starscream let out a racked sob and managed to pull away from Soundwave. His optics were wide, and his intakes were ragged.

“No,” he ground out. “No, that doesn’t make any sense. If that was what all of this was about, then why go through the pretense of the games?” he said, folding his arms over his chest protectively over his spark.

Soundwave mournfully watched as the seeker went through denial. He had once gone through the same thing. “They likely were evaluating us. Hence the inspections. Seeing which one of us would be the most appealing to the Quintesson populace. Because… we are commodities, Starscream.”

Starscream’s mouth opened and closed a few times, trying to wrap his processor around this.

“I’ll… resist.”

“You cannot,” Soundwave said, standing. “There is no way to resist.” He knew the seeker was not mocking his past trauma as if it would have been easy to avoid. 

Starscream was shaking his helm again as cleaning fluid welled in his optics. “Soundwave, _please-_ ”

Soundwave felt his broken spark break just a little more. 

“ _How_ will they even accomplish this? They clearly want _seekers_ , but they don’t have any more here. Who will I…”

Soundwave shook his helm. “I don’t know.”

The seeker exvented, and fell to a crouch, holding his knees against his chest. His optics were wildly scanning the ground as if he could find the answer to his rescue.

“They wanted me to tell you, saying it would be easier for you if it came from me.”

“No,” Starscream croaked. “No. It’s so they could record the interaction for their _shows_ ,” he hissed. He was collapsing in on himself in denial, in pain, in fear. Soundwave could see his countenance _crumbling_. 

Starscream had some cleaning fluid falling down his faceplate. “They want me to make sparklings? The sparks? To what end?”

Soundwave didn’t want to answer this question. Sparklings were cute, impressionable, and easily manipulated. They might be the latest fashion accessory, and when they grew older, the preferred method of travel. Maybe even start a new war with someone.

Starscream was looking at him, realizing he also didn’t want to hear the answer. “Why _me?”_ he asked, painfully.

“It’s better not to wonder at the why with Quintessons,” he said finally. He dropped into a crouch so that he was optic-level with Starscream. “You will be okay. It will take time,” Soundwave said, his vocalizer thick. “It took me time.”

Starscream pushed his faceplate into his knees. “I… _can’t_ ,” he said. “I _won’t.”_

Soundwave did not contradict him this time. He sat down next to the seeker and pulled him into an embrace. Starscream did not resist. The despondence in his field was like a jagged edge to Soundwave, but he tried to comfort him as best he could.

Apparently overhearing some of Starscream’s protests, Jazz and Prowl came out, looking worriedly at the pair. Soundwave picked up on the confusion in their minds, knowing they didn’t quite hear everything that he had said to Starscream.

A booming voice then echoed across the forest. “Congratulations, Cybertronians. You have successfully completed the mission. Prepare for extraction.”

Soundwave clenched his jaw. This was why they had been in the game for so long. His own stubbornness had kept them locked in this game, and the Quintessons were just _waiting_ for him to finally do what he was told.

Starscream released a sob.

* * *

Right before they were escorted out of the arena, a strange flash of light swept over them again. This time, it brought the four of them to their knees, fighting an overwhelming sense of nausea and weakness as if their limbs were being held down and forcibly _slowed_.

They were dragged out of the arena since they could not stand and were deposited in a room, where Artuz waited for them. “Welcome back,” the Quintesson said, more sedate than usual.

Soundwave was glaring hatefully, and surprisingly, the Quintesson seemed affected, almost sheepish. “I should explain that you might feel like a [year] has passed, but you have only been in that arena for a little over two day-cycles,” he said. “Hence your current discomfort as your frame’s readjust.” He saw their confused looks and said “Time dialation technology,” he said as an explanation.

“For what purpose?” Jazz asked, managing to bring himself to his pedes.

Artuz fidgeted and turned his mask quietly to Starscream who was laying on the ground, curled into a ball. His optics were listless staring off into nothing. Artuz sighed. “We’re ready for your call to Megatron now,” he said, his voice wavering a little.

Starscream just brought his servos up to cover his faceplate.

The androids moved and picked him up, bringing a whimper out of his vocalizer. The other three responded by trying to go to him, to help him, but they were grabbed and stopped, no matter how they struggled. Soundwave made an angry noise, attempting to thrash the most.

“I’ll bring him back,” Artuz offered quietly. “You have… one more game to play,” he added as he walked off and the androids carrying Starscream followed.

Soundwave seethed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are marching towards the end here- I hope you like where this goes. And- THIS DOES END WELL it's going to be okay <3 Thank you for your comments, your kudos, and your support- this fic has been a lot of fun.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I know you don't hate Quintessons enough yet.

Megatron had known the Quintessons were looking for him. He and Prime had retreated to absolute radio silence as they neared the end stage of their plan and had moved most of their forces to Cybertron. Trying not to tip the Quintessons off, Megatron had waited on Earth and then opted to receive the call. He silently patched Shockwave into the call as well, knowing that he would share the information with the Autobots if he deemed it appropriate. He knew it was time to put their plan in motion.

“ _Megatron_ ,” came a femme’s voice, light, and airy, and colored by cruelty. “ _You’ve been hiding from us,_ ” the voice said reproachfully.

“What do you want?” he replied, sitting alone in his base.

“ _Accept our video request on your console_ ,” the femme instructed.

Megatron huffed his vents and did so. His spark sank when he saw him.

“Starscream,” he breathed.

The seeker looked awful. His plating was dull and dingy as if he had been outside without a washrack for a very, very long time. He was covered in dents, dings, scratches, and injuries that had somewhat healed, but had clearly not been repaired by a medic.

His faceplate looked… lifeless. Until the flicker of recognition passed across his features.

“My lord Megatron,” he rasped, his vocalizer uneven. “So lovely to see you again.”

Megatron took in more details of the video feed. There were two white androids with smooth, featureless faces holding Starscream with their twisted, tentacled arms. A small, almost Rumble or Frenzy-sized Quintesson stood off to the side, with a grinning purple mask. But it was the larger, mech-sized Quintesson that held Megatron’s attention.

“Are you alright?” Megatron asked quickly.

“Haaa, no?” Starscream said looking upwards, his plastered smile slipping.

“SS-22 has been entertaining us in a survival game, haven’t you _dearest_ ,” the femme said turning her smirking white mask towards the seeker. 

Starscream glared at her, but replied, “Yes, Mmm-Mistress.”

Megatron felt his plating crawl.

“I write for a particularly popular magazine that talks about our latest acquisitions to the games,” the femme continued. “And SS-22 has been of particular interest ever since we picked him up.” Her mask tilted back towards the screen. Starscream was watching her carefully like she was the most dangerous thing in the room.

Megatron took the cue. “I don’t have time for the drivel of femmes and their obsession of a seeker,” he said seeing the femme stiffen in offense. He caught the stifled smirk on Starscream’s lips.

“Don’t you want him back?” she said, with a sickly-sweet voice. “We were led to believe your relationship with him was worth exploring for our readers.”

Megatron was not often at a loss for words, but he was not sure what this situation warranted. And for some reason, he felt a sense of foreboding.

“Mistress,” came the pained voice of Starscream. “What do you want to know?” he asked. 

“Hmm?” the femme said, gliding up close to the seeker. “Are you in a rush to get this call over with?” she said lowly, and possibly with a smile under her mask.

Starscream’s optics hardened as he frowned.

“Are you planning to return him?” Megatron asked with as much boredom as he could muster. “Because otherwise, this call is a waste of time.”

The femme tilted her head in receipt of Megatron’s words. “To the point then.” She placed her tentacle under Starscream’s chin, lifting it in a clear sign of dominance. “SS-22 our _readers_ want to know: has Megatron ever taken you to his berth for interface?”

Starscream’s optics went wide, and his mouth fell open in shock and disgust. “Mistress, I don’t understand-”

“SS-22,” she repeated, her voice dropping lower. Starscream’s faceplate was afraid. “Answer the question.”

Starscream’s mouth was open in shock for a few moments. “Yes, I have been taken to his berth, mistress,” he said, defeated. 

“What is this?” Megatron asked, disgusted.

The femme wrapped her tentacle around Starscream’s throat, and she turned to look back at Megatron. “A demonstration,” she replied. “SS-22, do you wish to sparkbond with Megatron?”

The dark faceplate burned with hatred. Starscream clenched his denta, his neck straining, but managed to remain silent.

“ _Oh,_ ” the femme said, then fell into a light cackle of laughter. She took in a sharp intake of breath. “He’s _resisting_ it, Artuz! I can’t _believe_ it _,”_ she said, almost sounding proud. She moved her mask extremely close to the seeker, and then said, “You’ve _finally_ been able to resist it, haven’t you?”

Starscream’s optics were fixed on her as he shivered.

“Don’t you want to tell him?” she purred. “This might be your last chance to talk to him. You will certainly be too busy with _other pursuits_ moving forward.”

Something painful appeared in Starscream’s faceplate, and his optics slid to look at Megatron. Starscream stared at him for a few moments then said with a small smirk, “I fragging hate you.”

Megatron smirked back. “I know.”

“ _So_ romantic,” the femme said bitterly. In a swift motion she pressed something on Starscream’s chest with her tentacle and tore away his chest panel and cockpit so that his spark was suddenly exposed. The seeker gasped in shock and struggled against the androids. Megatron gripped the armrests of his throne.

“EGREATA!” came the voice of the other Quintesson, Artuz. “This is _highly_ inappropriate; you do _not_ have authorization-”

“ _Just_ a demonstration,” she explained, waving off the smaller Quintesson dismissively. Starscream was intaking raggedly and shuddering as his golden spark spun faster, now painfully exposed. “Is this what you desire, Megatron? This gleam of light?”

She turned to Starscream and said just loud enough for Megatron to hear, “He won’t want you when we’re done with you.” Starscream struggled against the restraining arms of his captors and glared painfully at the Quintesson.

“You see, Megatron, this spark is going bring a new era of _enjoyment_ for us,” she said. “So I wanted to thank you for taking such good care of it.”

Megatron pursed his lips. “You said this was a demonstration. A demonstration of _what,_ exactly?” Megatron said, his vocalizer betraying some of the anger he felt.

The Quintesson femme laughed. “We will eventually need more of you to fill our games,” she said petting the side of Starscream’s helm with her tentacle. “I suppose I take perverse pleasure in letting you see what is in store for you.”

Megatron ground his denta in barely contained anger. He met the pained, frightened optics of his second. “I’m coming for you.”

Starscream gave him the faintest of smiles. 

Egreata tilted her masked head. “You would have to find us first,” she said with a laugh.

“Oh, I know where you are,” he said, seeing the Quint femme freeze. “A little word of advice,” he said smiling wickedly as he leaned towards the display.

“You should never have let Starscream speak.”

The derisive laughter of his seeker filled his audials, and then the feed cut.

* * *

“Are you injured?” Artuz asked as the Androids pulled SS-22 down the hallway back to his shared quarters. 

SS-22 gave an exasperated look to his handler. “You _almost_ sound like you _care_ ,” he replied. His plating was loose around his spark chamber, showing some signs of Egreata’s mishandling.

Artuz didn’t blame the seeker’s anger. He did miss the honorifics that used to punctuate the seeker’s speech, but he understood that given everything that had happened and was about to happen… some concessions could be made. “Of _course_ I care,” Artuz said. “Despite everything, I did hope this would be a more… enjoyable experience for you.”

SS-22 snorted. “Enjoyable,” the seeker repeated. 

Artuz frowned under his mask. “I admit, it was a foolish hope on my part.”

* * *

The four Cybertronians sat in a prep room as their armor was polished and shined to perfection. Their frames were repaired from the damage they had received in the forest game, but they had declined to repair Prowl’s vocalizer saying that he didn’t need it for the next game and that audiences seemed to enjoy his character arc. They said his muteness was… cute.

Jazz had to be electrically shocked for the first time in a while.

When they had finally been left alone, Starscream gave them a broken smile. “Megatron is coming,” he had said softly. Though the Autobots weren’t completely happy at the words, they still held a small twinge of hope. Soundwave had hugged Starscream tightly as they waited to enter the next game.

They were escorted into an actual arena this time, and the stands were filled to the brim with Quintessons. They realized this was the arena they had seen on the display when they had first arrived. 

“LET’S HEAR IT FOR THE CYBERTRONIANS!” came a booming voice over the loudspeaker. They walked out to a platform with matching looks of dread on their faceplates. 

Artuz joined them on a platform. Without turning to them, he spoke quickly. “You are going to be individually fighting opponents that were chosen to unnerve you,” he said. “It’s _not_ real, no matter what it looks like, or what the announcer says.” He stepped forward waving a wiggling appendage at the crowd. “Try to give a good show if you can. To stall.”

The Cybertronians tried to keep their faceplates impassive. They were collectively surprised; that if Artuz was to be believed, they had somehow managed to make an ally. A _Quintesson_ ally.

“FIRST UP IS SW-17! WHO WILL HE BE FACING? PERHAPS SOMEONE FROM HIS PAST?”

Soundwave grimaced and stepped forward into the arena. This, at least, was familiar.

* * *

_“Lord Megatron, it is time to depart,”_ came the voice of Shockwave over the comm.

Megatron strode through the open spacebridge and landing on the other side where the collective force of both armies had been waiting. They were ready to board ships and shuttles, weapons ready, fully fueled.

Shockwave greeted him on the other side of the platform. “I wasn’t sure what you wanted me to tell Prime from that,” he said quietly. 

Megatron nodded. “I will inform him. Begin loading our forces.” Shockwave nodded and turned away to start issuing orders.

When he reached Prime, the Autobot leader nodded to him. 

“It seems they grow weary of our mechs and may be changing their use for them,” Megatron said through clenched denta. “And they know we’re coming.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Prime said, hefting his axe over his shoulder.

* * *

“NOW TO SEE SW-17'S OPPONENTS,” the announcer shouted. On the opposite platform, two mechs walked out into the arena, watching the tape-deck carefully. One was green and the other was red.

“Hello, _Creator_ ,” the green one said with a frown. The red one also glowered under his visor.

Soundwave wondered if his spark had stopped. The resemblance _was_ uncanny with these two mechs. They looked so much like Rumble and Frenzy, but in bigger frames. 

_Stop_ , he told himself. The words of Artuz swam in his processor and he frowned under his faceplate. This _would_ be the perfect thing to unseat him. He was so desperate for his creations that the idea of fighting them turned his tanks.

But these mechs were likely not his creations. They… couldn’t be.

Could they?

"BEGIN WHEN READY."

There was no time to think as they rushed him. Clearly training for combat together, they got close in for an attack, preparing to punch. Soundwave crouched and met the thrown punches with his arm. He used his other arm to uppercut the red mech, who was thrown back with a pained cry.

The noise made Soundwave falter for just a moment. The green mech smirked and his punch landed squarely into Soundwave’s chest, knocking the air out of his vents.

He took a step back and the green mech followed up, trying to grab his neck. Soundwave slid out of the way and headbutted the mech, knocking him back.

Suddenly small platforms rose up on the sides of arenas, with weapons appearing on shelves.

The red and green mechs grinned sadistically. Soundwave sighed and just rolled his shoulders and dashed over to pick out a weapon himself.

* * *

Megatron watched the screen, his own frame tensing with each blow that Soundwave gave or received. He was in an open communication with Prime who was also receiving the broad-range transmission of this “show” the Quintessons were pushing out through space.

“Are they actually his creations?” the Prime asked, sounding concerned.

Megatron shrugged as he watched Soundwave carefully. It was good that Soundwave had been a top-tier gladiator, as it looked like it was keeping him alive despite being at a numbers disadvantage. “I think they intend for him to kill them though; they don’t match his ability in the slightest,” Megatron said.

“Why would they do that?”

Megatron moved his optics to the Prime’s face that was on the side of the screen. “It seems the Quintessons enjoy causing _suffering_ ,” he said dryly. He moved his optics back to Soundwave just as the tape-deck found an energy sword that glowed a bright cyan. It was a good weapon with a good length, giving him the ability to keep his combatants at bay.

Just then, the broadcast cut away to a commercial. It was for some kind of new product that was coming on the market.

“They want him to think he’s killing is own creations,” Prime said, disgusted.

The screen showed a frequency number for preorders.

“He is definitely unnerved but he seems able to separate-” Megatron had begun to say. But then his jaw went slack in horror.

On the screen was a picture of Starscream, winking at the camera with a smile. The words “preorders available” and “seeker sparklings” filled the screen.

“We have to hurry,” Prime said, his vocalizer ragged. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And hell let me give you some ADDITIONAL CONTENT.
> 
> Part of my writing process is sometimes I literally talk out the scene to myself (when I'm alone lol). This is [me channeling evil Karen Quintesson Egreata](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1SZDRUI6zhsr4dpNp76vLEEkiXrdhreuM/view?usp=sharing).
> 
> And I have commissioned an art piece to go along with this fic, so you will be seeing that at some point as well. :D


	19. Have Your Catharsis and Eat It Too

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Vi-o-lent 😊 Like not terrible or beyond what I've already done. But warning applies.
> 
> ARE YOU READY TO RUMBLLLLEEEEEEE 
> 
> Long chapter. 
> 
> I commissioned Fanart for this piece as both a gift to myself for FINALLY approaching conclusion and because I just had this killer idea for it. The loveliest of lovelies [@Locineko (twitter) ](https://twitter.com/locineko) helped make my dream a reality.

[ ](https://ibb.co/rtm8Bjv)

Soundwave was venting raggedly. Energon was dripping from a wound in his side and he was pretty sure the connections in his left arm had been almost severed, rendering the appendage practically useless. 

He had managed to kill one of them. The thought still hurt his spark, but he could not stop. There was too much to lose.

The green one was slowly graying out into death in the middle of the arena, having been stabbed through the spark by Soundwave’s blade. He still had not determined if it had been his creation, separated from his spark millennia ago at the cruel hands of Judge Licentus and his pursuit of more telepaths. Every time the newspark had reached maturity, Soundwave had been pulled to the ground, relieved of it, and left broken and empty with nothing except his hatred.

The same hatred fueled him now.

“Query:…” he said, his vocalization painful. “Designation?”

The red one was livid. “Frag you, _creator_ ,” he said, flicking his sharp spear to clear it of Soundwave’s energon on the ground. “You don’t get to know our names.”

The red mech charged then, and Soundwave braced himself by planting his pedes to twist to the side. He offered an enticing target to the red mech in his unprotected left side, hoping that he would take the bait.

His opponent either wasn’t experienced enough to recognize the deception or was too blinded by his anger to see it. The red one stabbed his spear at Soundwave, and the tape-deck twisted on his pedes. The spear missed its mark, and Soundwave was able to bring his sword down to slice down the back of his opponent. It was a deep and possibly fatal wound.

He saw the red eyes of the mech go wide in shock and fear as he fell to the ground. Soundwave had to drop to a knee from his own injuries and noticed ground was quickly being soaked in the energon flowing out of the mech. Soundwave picked up the spear and threw it some distance away. He put his sword down and quietly gathered up the dying mech into his arms and held him.

Soundwave tried to read his mind but could not find the focus needed. His side burned painfully, his frame felt weak, and his spark felt like ice at what he might have just done. The mech looked up at him, looking surprised that this was how it ended. 

When he expired, the sounds of cheers were deafening, and Soundwave slumped even further.

“CONGRATULATIONS TO SW-17 FOR AN AMAZING SHOW! NOW FOR HIS REWARD: A FAIR AND BALANCED TRIAL FOR THE MURDER OF JUDGE LICENTUS!” The jeers and taunts from the crowd proved that they were in on the joke.

Soundwave heard Starscream’s shrieking and looked over to see he was being forcibly restrained by the androids. They held the seeker down on his knees with his arms held behind his back. Prowl and Jazz were trying to get him to calm down, but he was just yelling for Soundwave and throwing invectives at everyone and everything. 

He smiled under his faceplate.

Soundwave sighed as androids glided onto the arena stage and gathered him up, pulling the now gray mech out of his arms. Soundwave was just so done now; he didn’t resist as he was pulled up to his pedes and dragged to the opposite end of the arena. He still heard Starscream crying out for him, his vocalizer becoming hoarse and his words desperate.

He hoped Megatron could save the seeker.

* * *

Megatron braced for impact as some Quintesson ships fired missiles at them. Grinding his dentae he bellowed, “EVASIVE MANEUVERS!”

Astrotrain cursed and quickly pulled away from the missiles, able to escape all but one. Unfortunately, after the fight they had already had, it would only take one to make a bad day be even _worse_. “Where the frag _are_ you, seekers? You’re supposed to be keeping the heat off!”

Skywarp warped in next to him and slowed down so that the missile acquired him as a target instead. He then slowly pulled away from Astrotrain, taking the missile off course. “ _Cool your jets; we are trying to cover the Autobots too, ‘kay? And they fragging need it more._ ” 

Once the black seeker was a good distance away, he warped away, and the missile flailed before self-destructing without a target. 

“Sir!” Rumble said. “Bossbot won his fight!” the cassette said excitedly. 

Megatron smiled slightly. Rare, good news. “Good. Who is up next?”

Rumble didn’t answer, and Megatron looked to the back of the cassette, about to demand a reply. But he saw on the screen the words “trial coming soon,” and he noticed the tense, fear-laced frame of the cassette, and he bit back his annoyance.

They couldn’t go any faster. The Quintessons had not been prepared for their attack and the combined army force would reach the planet orbiting the binary suns soon. Unfortunately, the few ships they did run into along the way were capable of slowing them down. 

The screen Rumble was watching had switched to Starscream, who was being held down by faceless androids and yelling fiercely.

Megatron checked the radar and saw that their fleet was still intact, though scattered. They might be able to send a few ships forward quicker; maybe some of the seekers could rush ahead? But that would weaken them all, leaving someone exposed along the way. No, they had to stay together for as long as possible.

“How long until we reach Quintessa?” he shouted over his shoulder to Shockwave who was still running calculations.

“My Lord Megatron. We are not going to Quintessa.”

Megatron turned and glared. “What?”

Shockwave flicked his optic to him and then turned to a display he had at the back of the bridge. “We are indeed headed to where Starscream and the others are being held. But this is not Quintessa,” Shockwave said. “The broadcasts are beaming from this structure,” he said, bringing up a still of a gargantuan space-station of gleaming white metal. It had one entrance and no windows anywhere.

“Its signature is reading as Entertainment Hub #3717.”

Megatron schooled his features to remain impassive. “I suppose it would be logical to assume there are more of these out there, then.”

“Your logic is sound my lord.”

Megatron cursed internally. This wasn’t going to be quite the blow cast upon the Quintessons as he had hoped. But if they were arrogant enough not to protect even one of their bases adequately, perhaps that would be something they could work with.

“When we arrive, it will be your mission to gather as much information as possible on the other hubs,” he said. 

“As you wish, Lord Megatron.”

Astrotrain banked left avoiding strafing fire from more enemy Quintesson ships, and the seekers quickly rushed in to pull their fire.

They had no time to waste.

* * *

Prowl wiped the energon from his split lip, watching his opponents carefully. They both _looked_ like Praxians, even looking oddly like Bluestreak. It had thrown him a little; in all honesty there were so few Praxians left and it pained him that he was going to have to hurt them to win.

But winning might be harder than he thought. Their hand-to-hand was actually quite good. He had already activated his battle-computer, and it didn’t seem to be making a difference. He was calculating his odds at winning the fight somewhere in the 50/50 range, though that might have been generous to himself. 

He stole a look at Jazz. He couldn’t do this to him again. This whole damn experience had both galvanized their relationship and stretched them beyond breaking, and he knew Jazz was only a micron away from losing himself. He had to win.

The orange Praxian feinted a charge, and Prowl jumped to the side. Immediately he realized he was being cornered, so he dodged. He barely avoided the punch that had been waiting for him from the second, jet-black opponent.

Less thinking, more fighting. A punch, a dodge, a flip. They were mirroring each other, perfectly in-sync, perfectly balanced. Prowl frowned, not able to find their weaknesses or something to exploit. 

A lucky break. The jet-black opponent had left himself open. Prowl seized the opportunity to jump and vault off of his shoulders, sending a flying kick to the orange one’s face. It was reminiscent of Starscream’s flying kick during the capture the flag game.

“GIVE ‘EM HELL PROWLER!” he heard over the din of the Quintessons and the announcers’ voices. He smirked as the orange one went down under his pede. He stood over top of him and met his opponent’s pained optics.

 _Up-flick_.

“FRAG YES!” he heard Starscream yell with a laugh.

* * *

With a final explosion, the collective Autobot and Decepticon armies breached into the space near the Entertainment Hub. There were no more ships between them and the hub now. The Quintessons seemed shocked into stillness.

They would arrive in less than ten minutes, so Megatron went to prepare.

His fusion cannon was practically singing from cycling on and off at his barely contained anger. The sheer _arrogance_ of the Quintessons made the energon in his lines boil. They had left them alone for millennia and only now decided to insert themselves into their lives? 

Megatron had always known it would happen eventually. He had known that no Prime or Senate alone could repel their erstwhile creators should they choose to come back and reclaim them, and he when he won the war, he would see fit that they were always vigilant and always prepared for the day they came back.

He looked down at his insignia on his chest. There had not been many truces or ceasefires during this war against the Autobots, but there had been a few. This one felt different, as if something had been permanently changed in their mutual hatred for their old mutual enemy.

He wondered how much of his two best soldiers would be left when they finally got them back.

Soundwave was irreplaceable. He was competent and loyal, and his outlier abilities were very useful as well in keeping his soldiers in line. He had been a calming force in Megatron’s life for so long, he wondered what it would be like to move on without him.

Megatron had been somewhat aware of the fate he had suffered at the hands of the Quintessons. He had given a lot of freedom to Soundwave early on in the war to try and find and recruit the mini-cassettes that might have been his creations, or the creations of his compatriots. They had not been… ideal soldiers for Megatron, as their small stature and weaknesses were quite apparent. But Soundwave had convinced his and shown their worth carefully over time. 

Megatron had never regretted trusting Soundwave’s judgement.

On one particular occasion though, he chose to ignore the Soundwave’s opinion.

Starscream was the embodiment of the Decepticon ideal. He was a gifted fighter, and not afraid to fight dirty. He was clever where he could not win by brute force. He was ambitious, a survivalist, and stubborn.

He had other qualities that made him less than ideal, but Megatron was working on it.

He tried not to let his thoughts dwell too much on Starscream. He was high-strung enough as it was, and he could not imagine what this experience was going to do to him in the long-run. 

Sparklings. _Sparklings._

The Quintessons were going to die painfully.

* * *

Prowl saw the blade come down and only managed to dodge at the last kilk by rolling to the left. He got off the ground and faced the two mechs before him.

He was unbalanced and tired, but he still had a good chance to take down the two Praxians. Both of them were injured far worse than he, and it was going to come down to a battle of attrition, which he could do. He did not lack for stamina in this kind of fight.

But these mechs he fought were smart. He just had to be smarter.

He charged the orange one. He ducked as his opponent's blade sliced through the air towards him. Prowl punched up and under the mech's chin. As the mech fell backwards, he hooked his pede around his opponent's knee. The orange Praxian lost his balance and went down with a dull thud. Prowl grabbed the blade from him and then stabbed it through his servo, effectively pinning him to the ground. The mech cried out in anguish but couldn’t free himself.

Now the jet-black one. Predictably, the mech had closed the distance and held his blade up to Prowl's throat.

"Gotcha," he said with a smirk.

Prowl smirked back. Unfortunately for the mech, this was the third time someone had gone for Prowl's throat since the games had started, and Prowl was more than a little over it.

Prowl flipped backward onto his servos, the tips of his pedes kicking the blade straight up into the air. The mech yelled with surprise and angrily tried to rush forward and grab the Autobot. Prowl landed out of his flip, dodging the servos reaching for him. He then grabbed the collar plating of the mech and threw him backward. The mech expected a blow but was confused when none came.

But he had forgotten about the blade in the air.

It landed, embedding itself in the jet-black Praxian’s shoulder, missing his neck cabling only by microns. He cried out in agony, his energon welling out of the wound.

Prowl exvented and folded his arms. His opponents were incapacitated, and he distantly heard the displeasure of the crowd that he had not offlined them. 

“WELL… GUESS THAT IS IT FROM THE ENFORCER P-06!” Prowl gave an exaggerated bow and left the arena to go back to Jazz and Starscream.

* * *

The Autobots and Decepticons breached the opening of the Entertainment Hub. As they emptied out of their shuttles, they were immediately met with a defensive force of large creatures with rows and rows of teeth and mouths that never closed. They were covered in sharp spikes, and their arms looked powerful. 

Optimus saw the effect these creatures had on the Transformers. He knew from experience that they were Quintesson Bailiffs, and they inspired a deep-coded compliance in Cybertronians they came across.

“Ignore the coding that is rising in your processor!” Optimus shouted, pulling out a blaster and starting to shoot. His voice seemed to help most of them break out of the trance they were falling into, but several mechs still seemed to hesitate. Especially if they were younger.

Megatron barreled ahead, seizing one of the Bailiffs by the throat. He picked it up, threw it to the ground and fired one shot from his fusion cannon into its face.

This seemed to help the mechs who were hesitating. Seeing them able to be damaged or killed spurned them to action and with a cry, the combined armies pressed forward, fighting and pushing the Bailiffs back.

The main strategy was to spread out, staying in squads and report in on anything they found. Skyfire and Astrotrain stayed at the entrance, maintaining their escape route. Shockwave had found a terminal and was attempting to port in and find some kind of map. Optimus and Megatron led the charge down the corridor and the squads began to spread out.

Shockwave got them a map. It wasn’t fully detailed as he was still deciphering what some of the words meant, but they at least had something. He sent it via data package to everyone and promised to update it as he learned more.

Many of the squads began reporting in about rows and rows of doors down hallways. When one group opened one, they found a room with some chairs and berths, a food dispenser of some kind, washracks and other items indicating that they had recently been occupied.

Megatron and Optimus found one door and kicked it open, but this room was occupied.

“Cybertronians,” said a tall, thin creature with stick-like legs. Its body was a cyan, and its armor was white. It had a surprised smile on its face. “You are quite the tenacious race,” the creature said. Three more of its kind fanned out beside it.

“Do you wish to be freed?” Megatron asked, impatiently. “Then tell us where our mechs are.”

“We did meet four Cybertronians recently in a game,” they said patiently. “But they were removed recently. I believe they are in a fighting arena currently,” the creature said, indicating the display.

The camera was zoomed in on Prowl’s face as he walked back out of the arena to stand with Jazz and Starscream.

“Where is this?” Optimus asked. 

“Alas, we do not know. The whole hub moves and shifts parts around as if it were a giant puzzle. However, we will assist you as we can.”

“The catch?” Megatron asked.

“You will make things a lot easier for yourselves in you deactivate the remote sensor array that allows the Quintessons to shock us into submission. You will have a lot more active participants in your escape attempts as well. But… not everyone is here against their will. Be wary.”

Megatron was already comming Shockwave, asking him to locate said array.

“How were they faring?” Optimus asked the creatures. “Our mechs?”

“Ah. Well,” said the creature. “I’m afraid they had us in a game with a time dilation element. We met them about a year ago now. They were tired but had not yet had the fire ground out of them yet. You still have time,” it said.

“Shockwave believes he has located said array. A squad is in route to destroy it.”

“Excellent,” the creature said. “Do you have extra weapons? We have some retribution to distribute.”

* * *

“NEXT UP IS SS-22 AND DO WE EVER HAVE A SURPRISE FOR HIM!”

Starscream frowned at the words, looking back at Artuz who was shivering a little. At this point, nothing could really surprise him. 

“SS-22,” the announcer said, directly addressing him. “HOW WOULD YOU LIKE TO MEET YOUR NEW TRINE?”

Starscream’s optics went wide.

Two seekers flew in and landed at the edge of the arena. They were older, denser models of the time before Cybtertron lost their Quintesson masters. Their faces were plastered with a blank, neutral look.

And their wings were not moving.

Starscream shook his helm. “I’m already trined,” he said raggedly, backing away from the two seekers. Still their faces were impassive as they stepped towards him.

“NONSENSE, SS-22! WE’D MUCH RATHER YOU TRINE AND BOND WITH _THESE_ TWO!” the announcer crowed to the delight and agreement of the audience.

The entire arena transformed. The roof began to pull back and a force-field kind of protection came up around the audience. It was see-through and only occasionally the light would hit it a certain way as to make its presence known.

The seekers were still walking towards him, one being red and the other was gray. Starscream realized they were painted to match him.

They wanted him to _trine_ with them, as in perform a trining flight. They would go into the air and pursue him until he was able to incapacitate them or they managed to ground him.

But the Quintessons had not fully fueled him. He would have to play this carefully.

He waited for some kind of indication from the mechs that they were… alive… but none came other than their ability to move. Panic was rising in his throat.

Once they got within striking distance, Starscream jumped away and then transformed in his jet-mode. He climbed into the air as fast as he could go and heard the roar of the crowd as they watched him. _Any_ other circumstance would make him preen. Here, he wished they would look at _anyone else_.

He heard the jets behind him; they had the older Cybertronian tetra jet mode, which made them more maneuverable but far less fast. Starscream just had to keep them on a straight shot and he would have an easier time losing them.

But these two seekers had something else in mind. One of them transformed to do a flying tackle. Still no emotion on their face.

Starscream transformed as well, flipping into bi-pedal, making himself less of a target that way. With a snarl he was able to avoid the mech’s eager servos, and Starscream managed to kick the seeker in the back as he sailed by. The mech didn’t even grunt.

“What is wrong with you?” he said, disturbed. He was able to avoid them so far, but they were well-coordinated and difficult to shake. 

“ _Oh SS-22! It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. We will be making sparklings with you shortly,”_ the red one said. But his mouth had not moved.

Starscream hovered in the air in bi-pedal mode. The words were disturbing of course, but something wasn’t quite right. He glanced back and forth between the two seekers. He was missing something.

But then the red one’s yellow cockpit opened, and all confusion washed away into _horror_.

A small-type Quintesson was piloting the seeker. Said Quintesson waved a tentacle a little out of the cockpit behind a red mask. “Now, don’t make this too easy for us! We’ve heard the bond is stronger the longer the flight takes. And the stronger the bond, the stronger the sparklings!”

Starscream’s mouth was agape. This could not be happening. “I’m. Already. TRINED!” he repeated, loudly this time.

“Nothing is permanent, little bird,” the Quintesson said.

Starscream was both incensed and greatly alarmed. He transformed back into his alt-mode and shot off as fast as his thrusters would take him.

Apparently, he still could be surprised.

* * *

Soundwave walked surrounded by four androids. His left arm now no longer worked at all and every single step felt painful. 

Judge Sevax was waiting for him in the corridor before the grand doors of the courtroom. “You know, we should have done this as soon as you arrived,” Sevax said. “But then everyone got so _obsessed_ with the seeker, they weren’t thinking about Licentus anymore. But I have not forgotten.”

He slid in close to Soundwave. “You inferior little piece of scrap metal, you are going to _pay_ for killing him. Licentus was _brilliant-”_

“Licentus: Cruel.”

“You _dare_ interrupt me? Licentus was _wonderful_ , and anything he did to you was deserved. I can’t wait to see you devoured.” Sevax turned around. “I’ll let you in on a little secret. Those weren’t your sparklings you just fought in the arena. No, I made _personally sure_ all of your runts were dead after we left Cybertron.”

Soundwave froze, his intakes paralyzed and burning. This had been assumed, but it was terrible to finally hear. When he killed Licentus, he knew he was signing the death warrant for his creations, and that was something he was going to have to live with for the rest of his existence. He had remembered the thick, oily thoughts of the judge as he ripped out a newspark from his chest, personally delighting in the fear and pain Soundwave was going through.

Quintessons were surprisingly easy to kill if you removed their giant heads from their disgusting bodies.

But now what? What was he to do? Sevax would subject him to a trial and no matter the verdict, he would be destroyed. He had lost. He _was_ lost.

Then he saw Megatron.

With a bellow, Megatron charged forward with his fusion cannon, firing at every android he saw. Soundwave twisted his helm around, seeing Sevax’s masks flipping around as if looking at the situation through a different face might help him. 

Soundwave took a tentative step forward, expecting to be shocked. Sevax flipped his wrist.

But… nothing happened.

Soundwave invented and _hummed_.

“You wouldn’t. You _can’_ t. Quintessons are your masters!” the judge began to scramble backwards as the components of androids exploded and melted around them from the blasts of Megatron’s cannon.

“Quintessons: Inferior,” Soundwave monotoned. “Soundwave: _SUPERIOR!”_

He threw himself on Sevax, punching, pulling, _scraping_ against the masks and armor of the Quintesson. Sevax made a warbling cry as his armor broke. His servos twisted in the life-blood of Sevax as it poured through his digits, making them slick and sticky. Quintessons were both delightfully organic but partially mechanical as well, having subjected their own bodies to upgrades and experiments many millennia ago. And they crumbled so perfectly when pressed by an angry telepathic Transformer.

Sevax was no longer making any noise.

There was a servo on his shoulder. The field and mind from the mech were achingly familiar. How many times in the gladiatorial ring had this happened, where Soundwave had disappeared into his rage and Megatron had pulled him back?

“Come back my friend. We still have work to do.”

Soundwave rose to his pedes, his servos shaking. He was able to still them after exventing.

He noticed the Prime was with them, giving him a wary look. Soundwave looked down and noticed he was splattered heavily with the blood of the Quintesson Judge. He smiled under his facemask.

“Query: May Soundwave have a weapon?”

* * *

Starscream saw his fuel gauge drop below redline, and his thruster hiccupped in the air. The very seams of his frame felt like they were screaming in pain as he twisted and twirled in the air in both root-mode and alt-mode. The seekers, or at least the Quintessons piloting them, were actually more skilled than Starscream would have thought.

He was quickly tiring. He wasn’t sure he was going to be able to do this for much longer.

The thought cost him. A servo managed to grab his wing and crinkle it, trying to fling him to the ground. Starscream screeched at the pain but managed to twist away. When he did, the red seeker was waiting for him and grabbed hold of Starscream’s wrists and then turned off his thrusters.

Starscream was being pulled down, and he fought to hold himself aloft with the dead weight of the red seeker holding on. He felt the strain in his wrists, pulling on his seams and cabling. He grimaced as his thruster hiccupped again, causing him to lose some altitude.

The gray seeker appeared behind him, wrapped his arms around his waist in a mockery of an embrace and also turned off his thrusters.

The three of them were rapidly losing altitude. Starscream called upon every ounce of sheer _spite_ he had left in him to force his thrusters to stay aloft. He was momentarily granted a few extra feet of climbing until the thrusters went out completely.

They fell together in a heap on the ground, and Starscream was panting from exertion.

The crowd went wild in a cacophony of noise. “WHAT A SHOW!” cried the announcer. 

The red and gray seekers clearly had no pain receptors. Though their frames were striated with talon scrapes and were bleeding energon from their wounds, they were able to stand up and wave to the crowd. They bowed triumphantly and gave each other exaggerated pats on the back.

Starscream attempted to roll to the side with a grunt, but just hissed at the pain. Every inch of his frame was burning from overwork, and creeping exhaustion made his vision swim.

He was pulled roughly to his pedes by his wrist. He swayed but was quickly held upright by the red seeker, feeling crushed right up against the side of the seeker’s frame. It was cold.

Dimly he thought he heard Jazz shouting and he tried to look over his shoulder. Both Prowl and Jazz were being held back by androids, their faces contorted in anger. Even Artuz held a tentacle over the top of his mask on his mouth in shock.

This must have been what Soundwave felt a little while ago.

* * *

Optimus, Megatron, and Soundwave mowed through Bailiffs and androids that tried to stand in their way as they fought to get back to the arena. Soundwave was frightening in his intensity and Optimus gave Megatron more than one look of concern. Megatron’s optics were hard and he said nothing.

They turned the last corner to see both Jazz and Prowl being escorted by the androids down the corridor.

Elation passed across the Autobots’ faces as they saw Optimus. They even seemed pleased to see Soundwave. 

Things started happening very quickly after that.

As if at some unspoken command, Soundwave rushed forward and slid into the tentacled legs of the android closest to Prowl. Prowl in turn grabbed the head of the faceless white android and pulled back, forcing it to the ground. Jazz had jumped into the air and landed a slicing kick into the neck of the android, severing it from its body.

Megatron and Optimus were impressed.

The trio quickly dispatched the other androids without assistance. Then, unnerving both faction leaders, Prowl and Jazz pulled Soundwave into an embrace, patting him on the back.

Prowl began signing something into the air with his digits, and Jazz murmured something low in response. Soundwave nodded, and then turned to both Megatron and Optimus.

“Starscream: Lost his fight.”

Megatron cursed under his breath. “Where is he?”

Jazz stepped forward. “We’ll find him. We’re going to have to move fast,” he said, already turning. Optimus and Megatron followed behind them.

“Jazz: Win your fight?”

Jazz smirked. “Absolutely. Probably wasn’t very entertaining though, but it was certainly quick.”

Prowl gave Jazz a long-suffering look as they ran.

Optimus was surprised at how well the three of them worked together. Prowl was silent, but Soundwave was able to anticipate his moves and aid accordingly. Jazz also effortlessly fit in with their maneuvers and their coordinated attacks were fascinating as much as they were deadly.

It seemed like they had been through a lot together.

Megatron didn’t seem happy, and Optimus didn’t think it was completely because of Starscream.

* * *

“WHAT a game, wasn’t it folks? Don’t think my heart had been pounding this fast since that Yterian got a sword through the chest, am I right?”

“Absolutely, Reporatus! So many facets! So much gratuitous violence! The _angst_!”

“Oh yes, the _angst_. Remember SS-22’s face when he saw the fantastic Quintesson pilots?!”

“Oh _yes!_ And when SW-17 killed his green creation?!” Narrata said. She was still wary of playing up too much on SW-17 because of her near-miss earlier. But he was headed to a trial anyway, so maybe it was okay now?

Reporatus nodded. _Phew. Safe._

“SW-17 is certainly an interesting case. Let’s check in at the courtroom and see how things are going?”

Both Narrata and Reporatus looked at the small monitor before them and then tilted their masked faces when they saw it was empty. “Did it… get rescheduled?” Narrata asked quietly.

“Hmm, I don’t think so-” he said. But his voice was cut-off by a blood-curdling scream coming from beyond the door of the courtroom. 

Both Reporatus and Narrata looked at each other. “Maybe… the trial was already over?” Reporatus posulated. “I mean that doesn’t _sound_ like SW-17, but maybe-”

Suddenly there were more panicked screams coming from outside the door to the reporting room. Then there was a blast of something that sounded oddly like a fusion cannon. 

Then their door got knocked down.

“WHERE IS SS-22?” said SW-17.

Narrata shrieked and quickly pushed Reporatus in from of her as a shield. Reporatus tried to do the same thing, pushing her in front of him.

“ ** _WHERE_**?” came the frightening monotone.

Reporatus shivered. “On the other side of the arena is his new habitat,” he said. “It has a red door.”

SW-17 pulled out his blaster and destroyed all of the broadcasting equipment and left the two reporters clutching each other in fear.

* * *

Soundwave, Jazz, and Prowl had pulled ahead, clearing the way for Megatron and Optimus. They saw the red door ahead of them and started to sprint.

Just as they were about to reach it, the door pulled open. Starscream limped out, leaning heavily on the door for support.

He looked up and saw the three of them approaching and smiled weakly. “Took you long enough,” he said quietly. Soundwave rushed to him and grabbed him up in a crushing hug, humming lowly. Starscream didn’t resist. 

Prowl and Jazz looked in through the open door and saw energon splatters everywhere. Two gray frames were laying in the middle of a berth, their cockpits ripped off and crushed on the ground. The bodies of two small Quintessons had still been in the cockpits when crushed. The two Autobots shared a look and then quietly closed the red door.

Soundwave released Starscream, who could not stand unassisted.

But when Megatron came into view he still tried.

It didn’t really matter to Megatron that his old enemy and the two best Autobot soldiers saw him soften when he saw Starscream. And he really didn’t care they saw him rush to embrace him, leaning his forehead down to touch Starscream’s, saying nothing. For not much needed to be said.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“I will survive,” was the answer that Starscream rasped out.

After a few moments, he pulled away looking closer at Starscream. He had dents all over his wings, and damage around his spark chamber and wrists. He swallowed the fury and commed all Decepticons.

“We have them. Prepare to depart. Take no prisoners.”

* * *

They made their way back, they encountered very few Bailiffs, but many, many more Quintesson civilians who were running around frightened. The Cybertronians mostly ignored them unless they got in the way, at which point Soundwave or Jazz quickly dispatched them. Optimus wanted to say something to Jazz, but ultimately stayed silent.

He was not sure Quintessons were redeemable.

But then they came across one Quintesson that elicited a reaction from the four they had come to rescue. “This one… this one lives,” Starscream said. 

The Quintesson shivered under a purple mask. “It would be better I think if you killed me,” he replied.

“Not our problem, Artuz,” Jazz said. 

“But,” Starscream said, leaning on Megatron who held him up under the shoulder. “I would consider it a favor if you told me where Egreata is.”

Artuz tilted his head down. “She would have been one of the first off the Hub in an escape ship. She’s too smart to stay at the first hint of trouble.”

Starscream frowned. “Another time then,” he said.

“May I… follow you?” Artuz asked plaintively.

“Won’t stop you, I guess,” Jazz said. “Just stay out of our way, _dear_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [More pics of the commission.](https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/13kA5n6RAr9dF9bj_fkBVSJSrIwtFzFwd?usp=sharing) Please credit the artist always and support artists in general! THEY ARE AMAZING PEOPLE!


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long wait, AND apologies for extending this out another chapter. When it started hitting 7k I realized I had more than one chapter's worth of things I wanted to say here at the end. 
> 
> Next chapter will be up on 12/29 (Tuesday) since it is already written :) <3 I believe that will be the final wrap up.
> 
> As always, thank you for sticking with me and leaving comments and kudos! Really appreciate it.

“Most of them would have escaped,” Artuz said. “There are escape pods and ships that would have launched at the first sign of trouble, especially if you killed the Bailiffs.”

Optimus looked down at the diminutive Quintesson as they continued to make their way back to the entrance. “Where would they have gone?”

Artuz stiffened a little. “Do you intend to pursue them?”

Jazz snorted derisively. “Artuz. What’s going to stop them from coming after us again? We need to _deter_ them.”

Artuz seemed to consider this a moment. “I… well, different Hubs have different goals and themes. This one was about producing shows of our subjugated races, and as I said before, many _volunteered_ to be here-”

“More and more I wonder if that was a lie,” Starscream rasped quietly.

“Oh no, SS-22, I promise you, they are _quite_ happy to be here-”

“His _name_ ,” Megatron growled lowly, “is _Starscream_.”

Artuz faltered at the force of hatred behind the words. “Apologies… Starscream.”

Starscream barked a laugh, and at the tail-end of it he sounded unhinged. “That makes up for _everything,_ then.” 

Megatron pulled him closer to him and murmured into his audial. “Keep yourself together just for a little while longer.”

Starscream sagged against Megatron’s side, scowling.

Artuz shivered. “I just mean the other Hubs won’t need you.”

“They won’t retaliate for what happened here?”

Again, Artuz shivered. “Not… right away. Quintessons are not rash. We take our time.”

That ended the conversation as the mechs weighed the words in their processors.

* * *

They made it back to the entrance, where ­­the soldiers of both armies had already started to gather. There was a hush that settled over everyone as they saw the state of the four mechs.

Soundwave was splattered in Quintesson blood and his arm limp at his side. Prowl and Jazz were both wounded and exhausted. Starscream was supported by Megatron and sporting damage in telling places.

The shocked crowd parted for them as they made their way to the back of the room. Megatron gently released Starscream, handing him to Soundwave who held him up.

“Wait,” Starscream said, far too weakly. “Megatron, you need to make sure _everyone_ is accounted for. Especially seekers.” Megatron nodded then walked to the corner of the room to talk to Shockwave, snapping at Artuz to follow him. Optimus followed after a few moments as well.

The bots around them showed some signs of battle, but it appeared that they didn’t encounter a strong resistance force. The four of them were the most damaged of the lot by far.

Starscream noticed Skyfire and gave him a tired grin. “Seems you got my message.”

“Rude, but yes, I got it,” Skyfire replied with a smile.

Starscream then became very serious. “Thank you,” he said, as if he said all the time. 

Skyfire nodded once, and looked like he was about to say more, but a gaggle of Autobots had swarmed up to Jazz and Prowl and forced Soundwave and Starscream to pull off to the side. Bluestreak in particular was hugging Prowl tightly.

Soundwave then made a strangled noise in his throat. Starscream followed his gaze and saw Rumble and Frenzy running towards them at full speed. Soundwave almost dropped Starscream who squawked, but then Starscream pulled away and at the same time pushed Soundwave to go to his creations.

Soundwave slid to his knees as Rumble and Frenzy jumped into his arms. He was humming brokenly, and they were scrambling to hold him around the neck, giving out cries of relief. The Decepticons around them were looking on with soft optics, and even some Autobots seemed moved by the reunion.

Without someone to lean on, Starscream became unbalanced. Before he completely fell, his arm was grabbed by Jazz and he pulled Starscream back up and let him lean against him. Starscream didn’t think anything of it at first, but then he noticed the odd stares the Autobots were giving them.

Ah. Right.

Bluestreak pulled away from hugging Prowl. “Why can’t you speak?”

“They wouldn’t repair him,” Jazz said. “It’ll be the first thing we get fixed.”

Prowl smirked. _Before or after your broken processor?_ Prowl signed in the air.

Starscream snorted but Jazz just frowned. “Before,” Jazz said slowly, and Starscream stifled a laugh. 

There were more quizzical looks and murmurs asking what Prowl had said. Everyone also seemed disturbed at their ease with each other. Starscream felt a wash of exhaustion, and so really just did not care.

Jazz noticed him sway a little. “You still with us, ‘Screamer?”

Starscream tightened his jaw and tried to hold on to Jazz tighter. “They fueled me,” he said. “But I’m pretty sure there was something… in… it.”

“I got you,” Jazz said quieter, only to him. “You want to pass out, I’ll pick you up like a femme on her conjunxing day; they’ll love it,” Jazz said with a gleeful smile.

Starscream groaned and was now determined to stay awake, knowing full well that was Jazz’s intention. 

“What happens now?” he asked, his optics looking over the crowd to Megatron’s back. 

“Not sure,” Jazz said. “We never really talked about this part.” Prowl moved closer to them, getting on the other side of Starscream and offered an arm to help hold him up. Starscream readily obliged.

 _We didn’t think we would get to this part_ , Prowl signed.

“Well, what do we _want_ to happen?” Starscream asked. “I think we might have _some_ say in our respective factions.” Soundwave walked back to the three of them, holding Rumble and Frenzy in his arms.

“Well, I don’t think we’ll be jumping _right_ back into it,” Jazz said.

Starscream frowned. “Why not?”

Soundwave sighed. “Starscream: We are compromised.”

 _Don’t you want to take a breather for a little to recuperate?_ Prowl added.

“What? No, I’m perfectly ready to-”

“STAR!” he heard his name shouted. Suddenly a force of black wings was rushing towards him, and there was Skywarp’s face, and his red and happy optics, and it was fine, this was his trinemate, not _them_ , it’s okay, it’s fine, it’s FINE-

Starscream flinched, holding up a servo to stop the rushing seeker. Shock rippled across Skywarp’s frame and his smile quickly faded. Dimly, Starscream saw Thundercracker fill in behind him.

“Wait, ‘Warp, please,” Starscream breathed. “Not… yet.”

“Wait, what? What do you mean?” Skywarp took another step forward.

Starscream took a small hesitant step back out of Jazz and Prowl’s hold, his servo still up. His face contorted in pain, and he shook his helm. “Please. Not right now.”

Skywarp looked so confused and hurt, but Thundercracker put a servo on his black shoulder. “We’ll be here when you’re ready,” he said with a faint smile and pulled Skywarp back. He was protesting a little but ultimately let TC pull him away.

Starscream stayed with his servo outstretched for a moment, trying to catch his venting and stay upright. He knew he was getting looks from Autobots and Decepticons alike, but he didn’t dare look at them. He then turned his servo around so that he could see his palm. It was still covered in the energon of the seekers he had killed. It started to shake a little, so he pulled it back down and clenched it into a fist.

“Maybe you’re right,” he said quietly. “We are compromised.”

Jazz offered him an arm to lean on again, and he accepted without further comment.

* * *

After a full count of all of their mechs had been made, Optimus and Megatron ordered everyone to back to the shuttles and ships to prepare to depart. The plan was to get everyone back to Cybertron and then they could evaluate everyone for medical needs.

Then determine what the next steps were.

Starscream and Soundwave were separated from Jazz and Prowl, and Starscream was not happy about it. He wasn’t ready to return to the status quo.

Artuz was left on the broken Hub, alone, but alive. 

Soundwave had placed Starscream down in the corner of Astrotrain’s hold, settling in next to him with Rumble and Frenzy draped across him. Starscream felt the pull of the sedative but did not give in, opting instead to just stare at the ground and try and keep his thoughts on what their next moves should be. He tried not to replay the recent events that wanted to jump to the front of his processor. A bilious wave of nausea settled in his tanks, and he swallowed back the desire to purge.

Soundwave had placed a servo gently over his own to still its shaking. Starscream didn’t meet the visored optics that watched him carefully.

“Starscream: Go to recharge.”

Starscream shook his helm. “Not… yet.” He feared what he would dream about.

Soundwave hummed lowly and then inclined his helm in understanding. “Starscream: Mentioned earlier trying to convince factions of the next course of action. What did you have in mind?”

Starscream looked up finally, surveying the hold. Decepticons were milling about, murmuring and chatting at a low volume level. Occasionally Starscream noticed a furtive look their way. They were curious, Starscream thought. He didn’t blame them.

“I could probably go back to the way things were,” Starscream said after a few moments. “But I don’t know if I want to.” Starscream pulled his arms to cross his chest, covering his cockpit.

“I just want them to _pay_.”

If there was one positive thing that came out of the games, it was that he knew Soundwave understood him better now. Starscream knew he didn’t quite manage to communicate his exact meaning through words; coherent thought was difficult right now. But he trusted that Soundwave knew what he was feeling.

“Soundwave: in agreement.”

Well. That was something at least.

The nausea got worse. Soundwave murmured something to Rumble, who then produced a large container from subspace and gave it to Starscream. He took it and quietly purged his tanks. He did not feel better afterward. 

Soundwave rubbed his back between his wings. 

* * *

They finally arrived back on Cybertron. The rest of the army unloaded first, and then Soundwave helped Starscream get shakily to his pedes. They were both in a sorry state as they exited Astrotrain, with the optics of both armies watching them come out.

Suddenly there was a raucous amount of cheering from the Decepticons gathered at the bottom. Megatron stood at the bottom of the gangway with a wry smile. Starscream returned it weakly.

Ravage and Laserbeak burst from the crowd, with Ravage jumping into Soundwave’s arms and Laserbeak landing on his shoulder. He hummed and walked down the gangway to the bottom with Starscream struggling at his side.

Both of them were ushered to the Constructicons and quickly evaluated for injuries and scanned for anything else the Quintessons might have added. Their comms and subspace were reactivated, and a few sub-plating trackers that had been discovered were removed.

Soundwave’s arm was repaired as was the rest of his damage that he had received from his last battle. Hook said he had expected a lot more lasting damage, but Soundwave told him he had been repaired several times between their games. Hook’s face darkened at that. 

Starscream was in a bad state. Aside from his physical injuries on his wrists, his chest plating, and his wings, he was still purging whatever the Quintessons had forced him to fuel on. Analysis of it showed it was some kind of enriched energon that was meant to encourage and ease spark-splitting, mixed with a powerful sedative. He was rejecting the energon as he had not split his spark.

Starscream had also developed a tremor in his servos that they did not think was physically related.

Ratchet came a little while later with the Prime and Megatron in tow, wanting to share their findings in the spirit of caring for their four rescued mechs. Ratchet shared that he was not exactly equipped to handle the finer points of Prowl’s vocalizer. Hook nearly smiled with glee.

“Care to trade patients? There is not much… I am equipped to do for our seeker,” he said looking over his shoulder at Starscream whose optics were listless and unfocused.

Ratchet sighed. “I’m not sure I’m the best suited for this either. But if all concerned parties… agree?”

Megatron was staring at Starscream and gave a small nod to indicate his agreement. 

Ratchet went and stood beside Starscream, talking in low-hushed tones. While initially his wings flared in irritation, eventually Starscream relaxed and talked back quietly. Eventually, Ratchet pulled a curtain around them and stayed with Starscream for some time.

“We will want to regroup and debrief,” Prime said. “I would prefer to wait until after Prowl and Starscream are able to talk fully. And… we might want to discuss next steps.”

“…Steps?”

“Yes. Where do we go from here?”

Megatron frowned. He knew what he was asking, but he needed more information before he could make a decision. “We will discuss more tomorrow then,” Megatron said with finality, tired of being in proximity to the Prime.

Said mech nodded, understanding he was dismissed. He indicated to Hook that he should follow him to the Autobot make-shift camp where he could evaluate Prowl.

Megatron glanced at the drawn curtain again.

There were few constants in his life as Supreme Leader of the Decepticons, and one of them had always been that Starscream always came back. Despite his wounds, his pride, and his schemes, he always returned. And he was always the same. 

This was different.

He instead went to Soundwave’s berth, sitting down heavily in a chair beside it. Soundwave watched him carefully, his visor alight with curiosity. His cassettes were in various places around him; Rumble and Frenzy were in the berth beside him passed-out, Ravage asleep underneath him, Laserbeak was perched on some monitor equipment. They all seemed to be thrumming with contentment.

“Tell me what you learned of Prowl and Jazz. Their weaknesses. Their strengths. Anything and everything you observed that might give us an advantage in the war.”

Soundwave looked down at his servos on his lap. He sighed. “Answer: There is not much that I observed that would be useful to the war effort.”

Megatron narrowed his optics. “That is your official position?”

Soundwave raised his helm and met Megatron’s optics. “It is.”

Megatron’s face darkened in rage. “Because you know Prowl and Jazz are likely discussing all of your weaknesses to Prime.”

Soundwave nodded. “Possibly. They learned of the bond to my cassettes. They might have guessed of your relationship with Starscream. Otherwise, we talked of survival.” Soundwave lowered his visored optics again. “I will show you, if you wish, Lord Megatron.”

Megatron allowed the tension in his frame to relax. He wasn’t sure he wanted to see what Soundwave wanted to show him. But he knew he had to. “You may proceed.”

* * *

Starscream woke sometime later, finally feeling like he wasn’t going to purge his tanks immediately. It was clearly the middle of the night on Cybertron, and he was alone.

He quietly got out of the berth and exited, narrowly avoiding being seen by the Constructicons who were sitting outside the medical tent. 

He just… needed a moment.

He walked between tents avoiding being seen and finally found an old decrepit building on the far outskirts of the camp with some steps leading to a roof. He climbed up to the top and stared out across the destroyed face of Cybertron.

“Seems we still think alike,” Jazz said from on top of the next building over.

Starscream lifted his chin in a smile and crossed his arms. “We need to stop meeting like this.”

“Can’t stay away from you, ‘Screamer,” Jazz said with a grin.

Starscream shook his helm. It was still far too easy to like this mech. “How’s Prowl?”

“Tired, but talking,” Jazz said, beaming. “Hook did right by him, I’ll admit. What about… you?”

Starscream let his gaze fall. In truth, the crossing of his arms was to hide his tremor. “Ratchet gave me some things to think about. It was… appreciated,” he added.

Jazz paused for a moment. “In that final battle, ‘Screamer. That was… messed up.”

Starscream snorted. “Yes. It was.”

Jazz did him a favor by not asking for more details. He just stood on his roof, staring intently through his blue visor.

“You know… Prowl and I have each other. Soundwave has his cassettes. Who do you have?”

Jazz likely didn’t mean for this question to open a hole in his spark, but that’s what it felt like. “I have my… trine,” he said, his voice cracking on the last word.

Jazz leveled his visor at him with a piercing look. He then did a running jump and cleared the space between their buildings, landing with a finish. He cleared off the dust he kicked up then walked over and stood next to him. “Starscream, if I had been through what you had with those weird seekers, I would have reacted worse than you did if my trine suddenly appeared,” he said gently. “Things got a little dicey for you, didn’t they?”

Starscream looked down at the ground. “Yes.” He flexed his trembling servos and pulled his arms around himself tighter.

Jazz nodded. “For what it is worth, Prowl and I… and I’m sure Soundwave too- we’re still here for you, ‘Screamer. I think we’re still trapped in that stupid game in a way, and we’ll be here for you as best we can.”

Starscream regarded Jazz for a few moments. “I don’t really look forward to trying to shoot you again.”

“I mean you could always just _not_ shoot me,” Jazz said, his smile brightening the night.

“True. I could shoot Prowl instead?”

Jazz hummed. “At least you didn’t lose your sense of humor in there,” he huffed. Jazz turned and then folded his arms across his chassis. “Are you so sure that is where this is headed? Back to shooting each other?”

Starscream frowned in confusion. “It’s only been two weeks for them and now… they have us back. It will all go back to normal soon.”

Jazz pursed his lips. “Do you think so little of what happened to us? To you? This wasn’t exactly an extended vacation at the Ritz.”

Starscream narrowed his optics at the strange reference. “What do you mean?”

“I think everyone feels a little thirstier for Quintesson blood now. And I think there are people who are mad about what happened to us in there and want to get even. Especially for you.”

Starscream knitted his brow in confusion. Jazz gave him a fond look and patted him on top of the helm. “We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

Starscream frowned at the pat, but nodded, feeling tired again.

Jazz did another running jump and flipped expertly across the gap in the buildings.

* * *

Starscream slipped back into the medical tent and almost got back to his berth.

“Enjoy your walk?” Megatron said.

Starscream froze and then slowly turned to meet his optics. “Yes actually. Been awhile since I was allowed to.”

Megatron was sitting at a table with two cubes of high-grade. He indicated the other chair, and Starscream knew he should not refuse. 

When he sat down, he then smirked. “Hold on. Did you come to check on me? I’m so touched.”

“There is no one here for you to show off to, seeker. Drink.”

Starscream gave a petulant frown. He picked up the energon and took a sip.

“You seem to be feeling better.”

Starscream immediately thought of ten different lies and witty retorts but settled on, “Sure. Better.”

Megatron sighed. They sat in silence for a little while, and Starscream felt his anxiety increase with each passing moment. Megatron was just watching him from across the table, saying nothing.

Finally, Megatron exvented. “I’m not sure you are ready for the debrief tomorrow. I will call Prime and tell him we need to delay it.”

Starscream frowned. “No, I’m fine for that. Might as well get it over with.”

Megatron leaned back in his chair. “You will need to discuss details of everything with Shockwave and Red Alert and I can assure you, it will not be pleasant. They need to ascertain if you are a danger to the rest of us from any latent programming the Quintessons might have put you through. You will need to have been approved by them before you are cleared to come back to your duties. If you even want that.”

Starscream snapped his helm up to stare at him. “What… do you mean?”

Megatron’s pale face was practically glowing in the dark. His optics were sharp and clear, leaving no doubt in Starscream’s mind that he was completely serious. “You can serve me in other capacities other than being my second-in-command. You can have your pick of any discipline you desire.”

Starscream pulled his optics away and looked into his energon instead. Megatron never gave him a choice. He also was never kind. So this must be some kind of test. A test of commitment? More anxiety bubbled in his tanks.

Was he trying to get rid of Starscream? Was he so disgustingly broken now?

“I… realize…” he started, his tremor coming back. He had to put the high-grade down. “I realize I am not well,” he started again. “I just need time, Lord Megatron. I will be back to normal soon-”

“Starscream-”

“-and I can resume my duties as your second-in-command. I can still… shoot Autobots if you want me too. It’s true, I befriended the two Autobots, but I can still kill them, my lord, I p-promise. Just a little more _time_. You won’t have any complaints of me then, or at least… not any more than usual, but I _will_ be able to still be your second-in-command, my lord-”

 _“Starscream_. Stop.”

Starscream had started to tremble in the chair, but at the sound of Megatron’s voice he stilled. His wings drooped a little behind him and he sat there, waiting.

“I was not implying I want you gone,” Megatron said slowly. “I am trying respect your wishes.”

Starscream closed his optics, trying to slow his rapidly beating spark. “That’s… novel.”

Megatron rolled his optics. “Honestly, Starscream, I don’t know what you want from me.”

“I don’t know either,” he spat. “I’m just… tired.” Starscream sighed, and then leaned back in his chair. 

Megatron watched him for some moments. “What happened after your fight with the seekers?”

Starscream shivered. “If I’m to be debriefed tomorrow, you’ll know soon enough.”

Megatron frowned. “Humor me.”

Starscream was not interested in having this conversation, but he also knew that Megatron would not let it drop. “I killed the seekers, then killed the Quintessons, and then walked out of the room.”

Megatron’s face was impassive. “Before that.”

Starscream frowned, slightly pained. He thought Megatron might be testing him for the debrief the next day- that could be the only reason for this annoying stubbornness. Starscream already felt weak and worthless, and this exercise was just pulling him further into despair. 

He sighed and tried to relax his wings. “After they downed me, they dragged me back to the room and forced me to fuel. It was obvious that they didn’t have processors, just… sparks.” Starscream didn’t like the quality of his voice. It sounded strained. “The Quintessons told me a lot about how they had these seekers in cold storage in case they needed them for… this.”

Megatron grunted in disgust. “Did they imply they had many more bots in cold storage?”

Starscream swallowed. “Yes.” He balled his fist to silence his tremor, waiting for Megatron to ask him to continue describing what happened next. Megatron noticed.

He looked angry.

“You aren’t ready for a debrief. If you can’t even tell _me_ what happened, I’m not subjecting you to this.”

Starscream was fearful again. “But Soundwave will return to duty? I can’t be the only one-”

Megatron had stood out of his chair and looked down at Starscream with a furious look. “You are _injured_.” His look softened. “Let me protect you.”

Starscream looked up at Megatron, not sure how to respond. He opted for looking down at the ground and nodding. At this point he had no words left.

Megatron walked around the table and pulled him to his pedes and pushed him to the medical berth. “Rest. I’ll take care of it.”

Starscream crawled into the berth, feeling both comforted and unnerved by Megatron’s proximity. Eventually he drifted off to recharge and blessedly he did not dream.


	21. Chapter 21

The next morning, Prowl woke up and groaned. Despite the soreness in his throat, he smiled as his vocalizer had actually made a noise this time and while it sounded rough, it did seem to be healing. Jazz was already awake, practically vibrating at his berthside. He looked at his face and thought of all the words he had wanted to say to him during their year deep in the games but couldn’t.

“You idiot,” he said. Jazz barked a laugh and launched himself onto Prowl to embrace him in a hug.

Ratchet cleared Prowl from the medical tent with a scowl and the two of them decided to take a walk.

The Autobot camp seemed tense. Bots were milling about talking and chatting and seemed incredibly unsure about what was going to happen next. Were they going to start fighting the Decepticons soon? Was something else about to happen? There were too many unknowns, and it made everyone extremely uneasy.

Many comrades came up to them to hug them, pat them on the back, and ask how they were doing. They both answered as congenially as they could, knowing it was important that their comrades see them doing well. But Prowl saw the small signs in Jazz’s frame that it would likely be a while before he was _actually_ doing well. Little flinches when a mech came up to them too quickly, his flashing smile a little too tight, and laughter that was far too forced for _Jazz_ of all mechs.

Prowl knew he wasn’t doing much better.

“Do you think Megatron will declare war again before we manage to get off the planet?” Prowl asked when they finally had a moment alone.

Jazz shrugged. “You seem so sure he’s going to do that at all.”

“Of course he would; why wouldn’t he? He’s got his seeker and telepath back, and we’re on _his_ planet at this point. We’re sitting ducks.”

Jazz looked wistful. “Hmm. Maybe.”

“Jazz,” Prowl said hoarsely. “It would make the most logical sense.”

“And when have you ever known logic to dictate Megatron’s decisions?” Jazz said smiling. He hooked his arm around Prowl’s neck and pulled him close. Prowl’s faceplate heated a little, but he didn’t pull back. “Buckethead to me seems to be more the kind of guy to go more for revenge than anything else, don’t you think?”

Prowl shook his head. “You’re being optimistic. It’s endearing, but it’s not really pragmatic.”

Jazz smirked. “I’ll show you _pragmatic_ …”

“PROWL! JAZZ!” Bumblebee cried, running up to them. 

They pulled apart and Jazz groaned. “How was it easier to be alone with Starscream and Soundwave than with our own faction?” he whispered.

Prowl smiled and greeted Bumblebee warmly. 

* * *

“Starscream, I brought them,” Hook said quietly. Starscream thought he sounded like he was trying not to scare a wild turbofox. Everyone was treating him like he was about to snap and it irritated him. But… at the same time, he secretly appreciated it.

Thundercracker had clearly told Skywarp something that managed to get into his processor and _calm_ _down._ TC stood in front and Skywarp had his wings down in the most pathetic display Starscream had ever seen from his trinemate. It honestly pricked his spark.

“Thank you, Hook,” Starscream rasped. Hook nodded and left, leaving the trine alone in the medical tent.

His trine stood there watching him carefully, cautiously. Starscream sighed with his arms crossed.

“What have you heard?” he asked.

“Nothing that made any sense,” TC replied. “They wanted… sparklings from you?”

Starscream paused and then inclined his helm. “They wanted _entertainment_ from us primarily. Terrifying us seemed to be a favorite pastime. But then yes, it seemed they wanted… seekerlets of their own. I don’t know why, and I didn’t care to find out.”

TC nodded as if this made sense in the way that only Quintessons could _make sense_. He looked to Skywarp expectantly.

“… are you… okay?” Skywarp asked, barely audible.

Starscream blanched a little, not expecting such… sentiment. His optics softened. “I don’t think I am. But I will be.”

Skywarp frowned, biting the inside of his cheek. “They wanted to… trine you to someone else?”

“To make the sparklings,” Starscream said easily. He was surprised at how easily this was flowing off his glossa. Megatron was _wrong_ , he could handle a debrief-

Thundercracker had reached out a servo and placed it on Starscream’s shoulder. He had been shaking. Starscream silently cursed. It was like his mind and his frame were no longer connected. Starscream’s emotions were an open book, and he felt vulnerable.

But he didn’t feel the need to flinch from Thundercracker’s touch. Before he could stop himself, he had reached up and pulled his trinemate toward him in the berth and was hugging him desperately. He looked to Skywarp with pleading optics, and he also eagerly joined the embrace.

“I’m sorry,” Starscream said lowly. “Things are going to be weird with me for a while.”

Skywarp chuckled, sounding like he was sniffling. “You’re always _weird_ , it’s practically normal.”

TC was petting his helm. “What he means is, you don’t need to say sorry. Whatever you need.”

* * *

“So there we were, trying to find the other team’s emblem. Prowl and Soundwave were guarding ours, and Starscream and I go to find the other team’s-”

“Wait, this was your first game together?”

“Bluestreak, let the mech _talk_ ,” Ironhide growled.

Bluestreak squeaked out a sorry, holding his servo up and ducking his helm. There was a large group of Autobots sitting on the ground listening to Jazz and Prowl tell the story. Standing on the sides within earshot were some Decepticons as well.

“Yes, this was the first game we were in. The buzzer sounds, ‘Screamer was _cackling_ as he started fighting with one of the mechs-”

“With a _sword_ ,” came the raspy voice. Many of the Autobots’ heads swiveled to see the newcomer. Starscream stood off to the side, and his wings twitched a little at the large number of optics trained on him.

“Why does that matter?” Jazz said.

“Tell it right, or don’t tell it at all. The sword was _great.”_

“Fine yes, Starscream had a _sword_ , and he was doing _great_ , until the mech had him pinned on the ground with some axes at his throat. And I say, ‘Hey, ‘Screamer, I didn’t think you were so cheap for a quickie on the ground.’” There were some light chuckles at Starscream’s expense, but the seeker just smirked. 

“Then Starscream gets mad, pushes him off, pulls out a blaster and shoots the guy. He says, ‘He couldn’t afford me.’” _That_ drew some heavier laughs, and it seemed some of the tension in Starscream’s wings fell away. As Jazz was talking, Soundwave and his cassettes appeared, along with Thundercracker, Skywarp, and Megatron. 

Starscream watched them but didn’t move to join any of them.

“But then, the _best_ part,” Jazz continued with a grin. “Starscream jumps into the air, transforms and takes off. One of them turns to the other and says, ‘He just… transformed!?’”

Raucous laughter erupted from the assembled Cybertronians. Jazz, hitting his stride, kept them laughing. “The other one says, ‘They’re called _transformers_ , you idiot! Pay attention to the other one!’ And then I punched him.”

Ironhide was dabbing some cleaning fluid from his optic. Bluestreak and Bumblebee were falling over in laughter. Skywarp and Thundercracker were laughing. Even Megatron had a smirk.

“Sounds like it wasn’t completely bad then.”

Jazz’s smile hardened as he looked for the stupid mech that must have said that. He couldn’t immediately find the source of the comment but decided to address it anyway. “It was the worst possible experience of my life,” he said, his smile not breaking. “Humor is how I cope.”

Many of the mechs were uncomfortable then, and he was happy for it. He could feel Prowl’s slight disapproval at his side, but one look at Soundwave told him at least _he_ was grateful for it.

“What other games did you have to play?” Bluestreak asked.

Jazz forced himself to relax. “There was a relay race, an interview, a gala, a survival game, and a tournament. Can’t say any of them were particularly fun. ‘Screamer had to cut off his own servo in the relay race. The interview they tried to pit us against each other. The gala…” and here Jazz had to stop, because he was angry. So very, very angry.

Prowl picked up the story from him. “The gala was unpleasant. The survival game took place over a year for us, and we had a lot of fights and very little energon. The tournament was painful. Soundwave had to fight some of his creations-”

“Allegedly,” came the monotone.

“Yes. Allegedly,” Prowl corrected himself. “I fought some Praxians, and Starscream-” he started but then stopped. Starscream met his optics and gave a weak smile. There was more than one helm that turned to him, but he just stood there, stock still. “Starscream fought some seekers, and Jazz fought some clones of himself.”

Jazz flashed a smile. “They didn’t realize I have no problem ripping into myself,” he said. There were a few weak chuckles at that, but there were also a few worried looks exchanged between the Autobots. 

“What did they want?” Mirage asked, locking optics with Jazz. “Why did they take you?”

“Entertainment,” Soundwave answered. 

“Commodities,” Starescream said, giving Soundwave a significant look.

“Revenge,” Prowl offered.

“Because they fragging _can_. And there is nothing we can do to stop them,” Jazz said finally.

The Autobots and Decepticons gathered with them were silent in response.

* * *

Prowl found Starscream and Soundwave a little later. They seemed to be sitting quietly outside of the medical tent, not saying anything. Already, Prowl was getting some hostile looks for being on the “Decepticon” side of the makeshift camps. 

_Not long until things break down, then_ , Prowl thought.

“Greetings Prowl,” Soundwave said. “Statement: Your voice was missed.”

Prowl smiled. He sat down next to Starscream on some debris. “You all _really_ took care of Cybertron in our absence.”

Starscream snorted. “I was asleep just the same as you were,” Starscream said. “This is all Shockwave.”

Prowl smirked a little. “Speaking of Shockwave, did you two get debriefed already?”

“Answer: Soundwave is scheduled in the next hour.”

Starscream frowned. “I am not… _fit_ apparently.”

Prowl froze and then slowly turned to Starscream. He observed that the seeker was reserved and nervous. His wings twitched on occasion, and his optics were trained on the ground.

“It’s probably for the best,” Prowl said gently. “There is no rush.”

Starscream sneered. “I’m sure there isn’t if we are going back to trying to kill each other tomorrow, hmm?”

Prowl frowned. “I’m sure it won’t be… tomorrow.”

Starscream’s wings drooped. Prowl realized now how much affection he still had for these two Decepticons and he saw Starscream's turmoil. Sitting next to them and discussing things seemed so natural, even now. Yet, he wasn’t sure they felt the same.

“Why _did_ you come over here?” Starscream rasped, his red optics narrowing.

Prowl sighed. That was the question, wasn’t it? “I guess I came to say goodbye.”

“Going somewhere?” Soundwave said, his optics glittering.

“I don’t know if we’ll have another chance to talk like this,” Prowl said, still noticing the Decepticons around them staring at him. They looked to the two officers who largely ignored their stares and angry faces. “Would it be crossing a line if I could ask what Megatron is planning?”

Starscream frowned. “I don’t fault you for asking, but you know we can’t answer that. Even if we _knew_.”

Soundwave tilted his helm. “Query: Will you divulge what the Autobots plan to do?”

Prowl sighed. “I know Optimus wants a lasting peace between us.”

“Are you here on an official capacity?” Starscream asked, his optics shrewd.

“No. I’m here for me.”

Starscream regarded him for a moment. Prowl thought he had already lost him; the tenuous thread of friendship that had connected them already severed. He seemed so much like the Starscream he had been before the Games; suspicious, clever, and maybe cruel.

But then he smiled softly, and Prowl realized it was just a mask.

“Megatron _is_ acting strangely to me, but I don’t know what it means or what he is planning,” Starscream said, leaning back, his wings relaxing behind him. “I feel like he would have said something if we planned on attacking you in the next few days.”

“Counterpoint: We are not reinstated as officers yet,” Soundwave added. “Possibility: plans are coming.”

Starscream frowned a little. “Well, more of the same then. We don’t know what’s going on while everyone makes decisions for us and about us.”

Prowl heard the small note of despair in Starscream’s tone. He felt it himself as well. He was ready to have control over everything again, but he kept feeling like he couldn’t quite grasp the situation.

Optimus had told him it would take time. Prowl hoped they _had_ time.

“Well. If Megatron does intend to attack us, will you give me at least a few minutes head start?” he said bitterly.

Starscream smirked. “Primus knows I’ve been a traitor before; I’ll give you at least _ten_ minutes heads up.”

Prowl up-flicked his wings, and Starscream laughed loudly, up-flicking his wings back. “I don’t think I’ll ever regret teaching you that,” he said, chuckling. Prowl realized then that he was going to miss this.

Soundwave looked at him and nodded quietly. “Us too.”

Prowl wanted to scowl at the light mind-read, but it had become so second nature to the two of them that he couldn’t fault him for it. He would have to work on reinstating those buffers again.

“Take care of yourselves,” he said and left quietly for the Autobot camp.

* * *

Soundwave sat with his cassettes in a quiet area in the back of the Decepticon camp. They were in the back yard of some old apartment building, now abandoned. 

Rumble and Frenzy were arguing over some kind of old energon candy they had found on the ground that had managed to survive all the fighting. Soundwave knew he should stop them, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Many things were unspoken between him and his symbiotes. There was trust and love, certainly, but also a sense of _deep_ understanding, so much so that he didn’t always feel the need to talk to them about things. They just knew.

He needed to talk about this with them.

“They severed our bonds in an attempt to control me and also to make it less likely for us to be found,” he said. “I would like to reforge them with you, but it will take time.”

Rumble and Frenzy stilled and turned to look at him. Ravage and Laserbeak as well gave him their full attention.

“We want that too,” Rumble said, with Frenzy nodding. Laserbeak too inclined her head.

Ravage stared at him and blinked. Soundwave was surprised that she was not as forthcoming with her assent. 

“ _Ravage_ ,” Rumble whispered. “What the _frag?_ ”

Ravage merely yawned in response. She turned her back to Soundwave and stared out across the broken landscape.

Soundwave stood and walked to her, sitting himself down beside her.

“You are different,” she said lowly. 

Soundwave considered this. He had seen how the games had changed Starscream, and certainly Jazz and Prowl. But he had not really examined himself and his own psyche after everything. Losing the connection to the cassettes had hurt him deeper than he ever thought had been possible. Now that they were together again, he wanted things to be normal. 

He knew it would take time.

A light brush of her mind indicated she was thinking of her creator. And she was thinking of the mechs he had fought and killed in the ring.

“You do not think I have done enough,” he said, staring out onto the landscape as well. In the distance, a trine of seekers stretched their wings in the early twilight.

“You killed my creator’s murderer and torturer. You endured your own torment and then took me own as one of your own. I should not fault you,” she said quietly. Her voice was beautiful to him, because it was so rarely heard. “And yet I feel conflicted that you are so ready to ignore the Quintessons in favor of going back to spying on Autobots.”

“We follow Megatron’s command.”

“We do. Without question,” she said sighing. “And yet. When I learned you had fought mechs that might have been your creations, my spark ached, Soundwave. And when I learned that they wanted to try and do the same slag to Starscream, my spark _hurt._ ”

Soundwave tilted his helm down to look at the ground before him. Her feelings were valid here. If Megatron could not see the threat of the Quintessons for what it was, he would be disappointed. 

“Judge Sevax told me he killed all of my creations. Before I killed him.”

“Do you believe him?”

Soundwave reached out a servo and gently placed it on her back. “Not for a moment.”

She leaned into the touch, her vocalizer starting to purr. “I do want to reestablish the bond with you. But… what is our next move?”

“We will follow Megatron. And have faith that he will lead us to vengeance.”

* * *

“What was it like? Without us there?” Starscream asked.

“Quiet,” Megatron said with a huff. He sat at the table in the medical tent again, watching Starscream carefully as he polished his armor. They were due to meet with Prime and the Autobots to discuss next steps soon, and Starscream wanted to look his best. “Too quiet,” he added.

Starscream threw him a lopsided grin. “You must be _itching_ for an assassination attempt then.”

“Positively starved.” Megatron returned the grin. 

Starscream smiled wider. Megatron saw his second-in-command was still there, buried under layers of misery. Starscream went back to polishing, trying to keep his servos busy. “I’ll have to think of something good for when my servo stops shaking.”

Megatron accepted Starscream’s blasé reference to his condition as a good sign. “I’ve had only loyal mechs in my presence for so long, you might actually wound me.”

Starscream’s optics were lidded with amusement. “It’s been two weeks. For you, at least.”

“Eons, practically.” Megatron leaned back in his chair. _This_ was what he missed the most. Their banter and ease with each other. It was rare even in the best of times on Earth, but he knew they were being indulgent with each other.

The Quintesson femme’s laughter still haunted his audios. 

Starscream turned thoughtful. “We asked them before why they took the seconds and thirds of the armies. They said something about wanting to meddle only a little bit and that we were expendable. What do you think they meant?”

Megatron frowned. “The Quintessons have the power of time at their command, as you are aware. They have attempted to alter events to fit their needs in many ways before. But they are not omniscient; it seems their control is fragile at best. They seem to have limitations about what they can and can’t alter.”

“So we are meant to be at war then. For a lot longer.” His voice was hoarse and rasped harshly. “And the four of us… _I_ have nothing to contribute worth ‘affecting the timeline.’”

“The future is not as prewritten as they would like to believe,” Megatron said. He stood and walked to Starscream, putting his servo on his shoulder. “And you are not expendable.”

Starscream didn’t quite believe him; Megatron could see that plainly. His servo moved to Starscream’s cheek instead. They stood there for a few moments, many things still unsaid between them.

They then received comms that it was time to meet the Autobots. 

* * *

Soundwave stood at attention next to Starscream. He felt his cassettes inside his chest resonating with his spark, and he felt whole again.

Or. More whole.

His thoughts still drifted on occasion to Judge Sevax and the words he had used to wound Soundwave. Just as quickly, his thoughts would shift to what it felt like to kill the Quintessons with his own servos.

He decided to still have hope that some of his creations still lived.

Prowl, Jazz, and Soundwave had submitted themselves to the debrief. It had been unpleasant to allow the apathetic Shockwave and the suspicious Red Alert to ask him so many invasive questions, and Soundwave had no choice but to answer. All of his secrets were out in the open now, but he found he cared a lot less than he thought he would have. The conversation was still exhausting.

They were interested in their interactions with the Quintessons and what Soundwave observed of their motivations. He had plenty to say on the subject and was happy to provide this information. Shockwave was nodding along, but Red Alert looked horrified much to Soundwave’s delight.

The topic turned to Starscream, and suddenly Soundwave felt less willing to talk. Still, he tried his best to explain the strange obsession the Quintessons had with him, and the events of the last two games that led to their separation. They asked him what he thought happened behind the red door, and he told them that it wasn’t relevant to their inquiry.

Megatron had determined that Starscream was still not fit for duty and would not need to submit to this questioning as of yet. Soundwave had honestly been glad for this development.

Prowl and Jazz flanked Prime as they entered the meeting area. They had chosen an area between their respective camps to meet and discuss things.

But it appeared that Megatron didn’t have much to discuss. 

“Now that we have rescued our mechs, I’m not sure the necessity of our truce anymore, Prime.”

The Prime sighed. He seemed quite tired, but didn’t they all? Soundwave supposed it had been difficult to marshal his forces and work near Megatron when he was obsessed with a certain seeker. Soundwave could relate.

Still, the Prime was going to try. Soundwave didn’t have to read his mind to know that.

“Is there nothing that would convince you to maintain this truce? Our mechs found a way to work together. _We_ were able to work together. Is there no common ground that would sway you?”

Soundwave thought this was a logical argument, but he thought the Prime could have done better. Usually, he had some kind of interesting appeal to Megatron’s better nature… or something. Something about what it meant to be a Cybertronian that would be laughable at best. Still, it seemed Megatron was going to stop playing with the Prime anyway.

“I don’t think our old truce does us any justice anymore. But maybe a new one could take its place.”

Soundwave looked to Jazz. Before the games, he would have thought him to be impassive, but now he saw the smallest hint of a smug smile on his faceplate. Jazz apparently did not think this was going to go any other way than how Megatron was now leading it. Given Prowl’s surprised face, it might have even been the subject of one of their amusing bickering matches.

Starscream shifted beside him. Soundwave thought it was too early for him to be even _pretending_ to be competent second-in-command. Soundwave also understood that he was biased. He had adopted Starscream into his circle of mechs he wanted to protect, but knew he was going to be a difficult charge. A light graze of his thoughts told him they were just consumed with asking Soundwave not to read his mind.

Ah. Clever seeker.

“What did you have in mind?” The Prime replied, on the verge of relaxing. 

Megatron smirked. “I think we have allowed our former Quintesson masters far too much leeway in their dominion over the galaxy. I think it’s time they learned to fear something other than their own idiocy, don’t you think?”

The Prime flicked his optics to Starscream and Soundwave before settling once more on Megatron. “I think we are both motivated by the same desires, then.” He nodded. “You will work together with us?”

Megatron smiled. “We will. They _are_ the bigger threat.”

Starscream looked surprised. His wings flicked in excitement and the barest of smiles graced his faceplate as he looked up at Megatron with brightness and warmth.

Jazz pulled Prowl into a side hug and smiled warmly at Soundwave and Starscream across the distance between them. They met the smiles with grins of their own.

They had their own games in store for the Quintessons. 

This was going to be _fun_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just have loved every second of this. There were some scenes that didn’t make it in, and I do think we could have made it longer, but once we set up what was going to happen to Starscream the Quints likely would not want to put him through more dangerous games. 
> 
> That being said, I do have a sequel in mind with a new team of multi-universe people (because then we could keep doing this concept FOREVER). This likely won’t happen until next year as I’ve got a few other WIPs that need attention lol. Keep an eye out- watch me here on Ao3, Tumblr, and Twitter and I’ll make sure to get the word out if you are interested.
> 
> I have a lot of people to thank.
> 
> Huge thank you to every commenter and person leaving kudos. Every single one. It’s so gratifying to see what everyone thinks and to get feedback, questions, and just overall support on fanfic, it makes it worthwhile.
> 
> A huge thank you to all my friends in the SkyStar Server on discord, you all have been with me almost every step of this journey and SORRY IT DIDN’T GO SKYSTAR lmfao but you all were so supportive anyway and that’s why I love you. I’m throwing in my MegaStar peeps in here too because I joined you all later, but gah the support has been so wonderful.
> 
> Big thank you especially to [Tac,](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tackytacs/pseuds/tackytacs) for beta reactions and assistance (SORRY YOU GOT SPOILED) and again to [Losineko (Twitter)](https://twitter.com/Locineko) for the art. I think about this art every damned day lmfao. It’s going to be made into a poster, and it’s going up in my house. Husband has no say. Lmfao
> 
> Thank you all; you've been great. Here's to the new year and make sure to come back for more <3
> 
> AND THEN THEY KISSED – Baird’s husband


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